


A Song of Land and Sea

by aevium, riotoftime



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, From Sex to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, M/M, Minor and Background Pairings, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-04 05:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14013312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aevium/pseuds/aevium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotoftime/pseuds/riotoftime
Summary: As Westeros faces a rebellion, Zoro and Sanji are defectors seeking to cross the Narrow Sea in hopes of finding refuge and new adventures in Essos. Amidst their journeys, they bond in ways they could have never foreseen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the Game of Thrones world, approximately 15 years before the starting timeline of the show/books and during Robert’s Rebellion. We will have several references to the lore of the world and will try to explain them as best we can so that this story can be read and understood by anyone, even if you are not deeply invested in the series. We intend to make this an adventure story with a wide variety of journeys, experiences, and characters to be encountered throughout the fic. 
> 
> We have chosen the archive warning of violence because it exists in this world, especially during the wartime setting, and can be expected at any moment. Anything else that may be heavy/dark or considered triggering will be fairly warned at the beginning of every chapter. Game of Thrones is a grim world of violence, betrayal, death, destruction, and inhumanity. Fans of the series may know character death is common but we promise Zoro and Sanji are safe from that fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are not fans of the series and want to continue reading, this chapter takes place at The Wall -- a massive ice structure in northern Westeros which separates society from the tundra North of the Wall. Those stationed here are oathed to protect the citizens to the south from everything that exists north of the wall -- specific to this chapter, the Free Folk or “wildlings,” a group of people considered to be lesser men and “savage.”

 

 

 

 

 

_i._

 

 

The blast of the horn is shrill, echoing off the empty northern skies with ease. In the midst of carrying a basket of apples, Sanji twists his attention to the top of the wall where the noise originates from. Only one blow, every man at Icemark knows the meaning -- the rangers are back from their mission beyond the wall.

A calm crowd forms by the small stone entrance, leaving plenty of space for their returning men to file in on horseback. Sanji eagerly awaits, all the while finding it curious that the group is back merely weeks after they’d left the castle. Must have cut the mission short for some reason or another. Sanji notices that Maester Zeph is peering over from his spot on the platform, having just stepped out of his chambers, Sanji presumes.

Finally, a group of four riders hurtle through the tunnel’s opening, passing the crowd before they slow. They’d sent five men not long back. Someone didn’t survive. And one of the men currently slumping in his brethren’s grip appears to be gravely injured. There’s a lot of blood.

Sanji is on the move immediately. This is part of his duty with the Night’s Watch, after all.

“Wildlings?” Sanji asks the ranger carefully taking the injured man off his horse. The man nods sternly, prompting Sanji to bend down and get a good look at the man with an impressively large gash on his chest. He shakes his head when he sees the dark green shade of hair under the hood. He knows who this is. Someone who takes great pride out of gathering wounds, evidently.

However, this is the worst state Sanji has seen Zoro in.

“Get him to the ward,” Maester Zeph calls from the balcony. He catches Sanji’s eye. “We’ll get a look at him.”

 

* * *

 

Zoro rouses from the depths of his slumber with a low cough, the black fading and quickly being replaced by a white bolt of pain.  He stills himself, grimacing as the ache penetrates him, burning from shoulder to hip. The grogginess dissolves entirely as he opens his eyes, finding himself staring at a dim, damp ceiling.

“Don’t try to sit up.”

Looking to his left, Zoro’s vision focuses on the man standing across the room, eyeing him critically.  He feels relief wash over him as he recognizes the man to be Sanji. This means he made it back safe from his mission beyond the wall - a vast northern wilderness so treacherous, each ride taken into its icy barrens reminds him of his mere mortality.

“How long?” Zoro groans, the words stinging in his chest as they’re released.  He recalls riding to back to Icemark but cannot remember entering its walls. He must have lost consciousness prior to making it home.

“You arrived with your men two days ago,” Sanji responds, pulling a stool over to Zoro’s bedside and taking a seat. Now that he’s awake, he has questions. “Worst state I’ve seen you in. Lucky your insides didn’t get torn up. I wonder if you pride yourself in that.” A pause. “How are you feeling?”

“Water,” Zoro requests, voice raspy from the sudden dryness he feels in his mouth and throat.  He won’t be able to answer many questions without satisfying his thirst. He attempts to motion for the drink but even the slight movement has him gasping with pain.  This injury is the worst he’s had yet.

Standing up again, Sanji picks up a metal flagon from the wooden desk and walks back over, tilting the spout into Zoro’s lips and gently pouring the water into his mouth. He watches the man’s agonized expression loosen in relief at the cool liquid hitting his tongue.

Zoro leans his head back down, closing his eyes and basking in the rejuvenating feeling of the cool drink.  Sighing, he answers Sanji’s earlier question with a low hum. “Stings.”

“As it should. Took me and the old man a while to close your wound. Better appreciate it,” Sanji taunts, putting the flagon down by his feet. He studies Zoro closely, eyeing the cloth bandages wound tightly around his chest and arms. They need to be changed soon, and wine needs to be applied to keep the wound clean. Looking at the warrior in his pathetic state is a sight to behold. Zoro is the shining star of their men at the wall. He is already feared by the wildlings north of their castle, according to rumour. Even bestowed the nickname of a wildling slayer. Sanji comments absentmindedly, “Must’ve been a strong one to take you down.”

“Some ginger bastard,” Zoro grouses, reflecting on the fight in the woods.  They were ambushed by a horde of wildlings, the biggest of them wielding a surprisingly sharp blade.  Took out one of his men before swinging at the others, the result being the deep slash gouged across his chest.  That was the goal of their mission -- to observe the savages beyond the wall and determine their position. It was unfortunate that they appeared to have had the same objective and were able to pounce first.  He grumbles under his breath, “Wildling cunt.”

Nodding, Sanji stands, looming over Zoro and placing a palm gently on his chest. Keeping his cool gaze on Zoro’s face, he catches a wince and takes his hand off. He’s probably in need of another dose of sedative. “I’ll go tell Maester Zeph you’re awake.”

Zoro watches Sanji leave the room, feeling mixed emotions about having to face Maester Zeph.  In the years he’s been a watchman, he’s come face-to-face with the castle’s Maester time and again, mostly for patching up after a mission beyond the wall.  It’s a part of his duties as the Maester of their watch -- healing the sick and injured, tending to the ravens, and offering counsel and insight. The old man is wise but surly, oftentimes hard on him for the many slashes and marks he receives in wildling attacks.  Highly conscious of the well-wrapped bandages around his torso, Zoro can only imagine how serious this wound must really be. Decidedly more severe than just some stitching and a mug of ale.

At least with the Maester, what you see is what you get.  His gruffness is hard to swallow for some, but Zoro respects it.  Sanji is a bit more of a mystery.

As the Maester’s steward, Sanji is skilled in healing and often times is the one to repair Zoro on smaller wounds.  Their fellow brothers frequently whisper about him, sneering that he thinks he’s better than others because of his status under Zeph.  There are also rumours of him being favoured amongst the men as he’s notoriously been at the wall for well over a decade. In his experience, Zoro has never had those inklings about the quiet, enigmatic man.  Perhaps he can be a bit of a smartass at times, but Zoro’s never felt he exuded any superiority. He simply seems motivated to keep order and get his job done. And in their training sessions, Zoro’s caught quick glimpses of his fighting capabilities, noting he’s adept with his shortsword.  His limber form aids in his agility, a requirement for the closer combat needed with smaller blades.

As Sanji tows behind Maester Zeph, he ponders over their recent patient. Six years ago, Zoro arrived at Icemark at the spry age of fifteen. He still remembers the first time he laid eyes on him, that odd hue of hair not hard to miss in the dismal grays of the north. Three peculiar gold earrings dangling on one lobe, and he was already filling his clothes with the build of a warrior. He’d known on the spot the boy would become a ranger, already in possession of a hulking Valyrian steel greatsword like he was ready to conquer the northern savages and become a legend. He recalls the determined spark in his dark, barbaric eyes.  Due to the polar opposite natures of their duties at the wall, they only became lightly acquainted from meals and Zoro’s multiple visits to the ward.

He thinks the man to be a cocky brute, but honourable from what he’s gathered. Sanji had been there to watch the boy grow into a man, eyes gradually turning to steel with every return from his excursions north of the wall. He hears whispers about the savagery that takes place up there, not envious in the slightest of their expeditions. He doesn’t have to ask the ranger to know he’s seen things no man should ever bear witness to. His brethren of the Night’s Watch respect Zoro like they would their own Lord Commander. It isn’t hard to see why he’s garnered that reverence. Sometimes Sanji feels a jealous streak, but he reminds himself that he enjoys supporting and caring for his brothers in other more fundamental ways.

“Bit off more than you could chew?” Maester Zeph asks as he appears in the room, the chains around his neck jingling as he crosses to Zoro’s bedside and peels back the blanket to expose his bandages.

Zoro grits his teeth, the sudden chill of being uncovered aggravating the laceration.  Shaking his head slightly, he manages to mutter, “Could be worse.”

“Could be dead,” Zeph responds seriously, eyeing the bloodied bandages with a disapproving scowl.  “Reckless young pup.”

Sanji steps up to the other side of the bed and peers over the weakened form with his mentor, scrutinizing his bandages. “I need to clean the wound and change the bandages. We should give him milk of the poppy.”

“I’m aware, urchin. You think I became a maester by scratching my ass?” Zeph asks sardonically. He turns to rummage around in a drawer, extracting a small bottle.

“I’ll endure it,” Zoro growls from where he lies, catching sight of the milky white liquid.  The side effects of the horrible drink are worse to him than dealing with the pain. He’d rather strengthen himself through withstanding than numb his senses.  It’ll help him persevere any future injuries he may receive.

“I’ll be cleaning your wound,” Sanji reiterates, giving Zoro a concerned look. “No need for bravado here.”

“I’m aware,” Zoro confirms with a nod.  “Pain makes you stronger.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, sharing an amused stare with Zeph.

“He’s got a pair on him,” Zeph says with a spry laugh, putting the bottle away. “I’ll leave it to you, urchin. Ointment is in the drawer, wine is already mulled on the table. Ruin my stitch job and I’ll stick a sword in you myself.”

Shaking his head, Sanji merely glares at the door as it creaks closed, leaving the two of them in private. “Crotchety old bastard,” he grumbles before turning back to Zoro and giving him one last warning. “If this is really what you want, I don’t want to feel you move a muscle. Any squirming will make my job harder. This is going to be much more painful than before, I hope you’re aware.”

“Get on with it,” Zoro commands, keeping his hard-fixed glare focused on the ceiling as he clenches the bedsheets, stilling himself.

He tunnels his vision on a particular beam on the ceiling and braces himself as he feels Sanji begin maneuvering the bandages, cutting away at them down his side.  The initial movement doesn’t hurt a bit but the moment he feels the cool hands begin tearing at the bloodied parts of his bandages stretched across his wound, his pulse heightens, pounding in his head as the hot agony sizzles on his skin, his gut wrenching with every piece removed.  The tacky, semi-dried blood has bonded the fabric to his incision, ripping pieces of him as Sanji gently pries the strips away. Zoro knows the man is being as genial as possible but the effect is excruciating -- worse than he could have expected. He keeps gaze fixated above him, knowing if he falters even one bit, he will be writhing and howling with the anguish of it all.

After he’s completely exposed Zoro’s chest, he examines the wound, taking note of it’s healing progress. It’s ugly and he has to be diligent in these early stages to keep infection at bay. He keeps his eyes fixed on that steely gaze, stifling a sigh as he strides over to the table to pick up the decanter of mulled wine. Grabbing a clean cloth, he is back at Zoro’s bedside, tilting the decanter at Zoro’s mouth. “Here.”

Zoro’s eyes flicker to the offering, spirits lifting at the sight of the dark liquid.  He tilts his head up to accept a mouthful.

Taking the wine away after he deems Zoro’s had enough, Sanji poises the decanter over his wound, cloth at the ready in his other hand. “Clench your teeth,” he warns, not wasting another moment and dribbling the blood red liquid overtop of the agitated gash. He watches helplessly as Zoro’s abdominal muscles grow taut in agony. He callously resumes his work, catching any wine escaping down his torso with the cloth and patting the wound as he slowly travels down the massive laceration. After he finishes sanitizing, he gently applies Zeph’s medicinal ointment and goes through the painstaking effort of wrapping his patient in fresh bandages.

By the time he’s done, Zoro is already passing out from the excruciating experience. Sanji cleans his hands in the basin of water at the far wall and leaves him be. After cleaning his wound and rebandaging him, all that can be done for the man is let him get some bedrest. He has many chores to get done before nightfall.

Zeph is the Maester of Icemark, but he also doubles as the Lord Steward given their outpost’s shortage of men. There aren’t as many people to feed, clothe, and treat so the job is doable but it does make his mentor a busy man and as his personal steward, Sanji is also forced to buzz around the castle day to day.

Right now, he needs to gather the ingredients for dinner tonight -- stew, his usual choice. It’s hearty, nutritional, easy to make and isn’t time sensitive. He’s always happy to leave a cauldron simmering while he makes use of the time for his other copious tasks. A steward is responsible for vital necessities such as hunting, cooking, gathering ingredients and other supplies, making or washing clothing, gathering firewood and maintaining weapons. If the builders are the skeleton of of the Night’s Watch and the rangers are the spirit, the stewards are the flesh and blood. They are responsible for sustaining the health and wellbeing of their brothers. Sanji takes great pride in his work to keep them vibrant. His medicinal duties are only due to being Zeph’s protege of sorts. No other steward is subject to these tasks.

As he hustles about the castle with a basket in hand, he passes by two men talking in a stone tunnel. Their voices carry, so he doesn’t need to be close to hear their words.

“He jumped right in front of him?”

“That’s what he said, saw Zoro jump in front of the poor bloke to shield him and that’s how he got sliced.”

Curiosity piqued as he listens to their conversation, Sanji pulls up his hood after recognizing the men. He strides smoothly, not wanting to catch their attention. They’ve given him trouble in the past.

“He’s not human, that mad fuck.”

“It was bloody honourable.”

Sanji’s interest wanes as they delve into blind praise which he’s heard a tiring amount. Being in exile would be a hell of a lot less distressing if he didn’t have to listen to one more zealot gushing on about the man.  But knowing Zoro had gained that horrific gash from protecting someone is information he’ll stow away for later. He does find it fascinating that Zoro never said a word about the truth behind his injury earlier.

He suddenly catches eyes lewdly glaring at him, sending a shiver down his spine and causing him to instinctively shuffle by faster. He puts his shoulders up and ignores their jeers and whistles. Just another day around desperate, repressed criminals. Some of these men are here for petty crimes, others murder, others rape or a blend of the two. Sanji hasn’t enjoyed spending most of his life surrounded by these mongrels. However, he has come to learn that many of them do take the black seriously, treating it as an opportunity to change their ways. But some of them are hopeless to change, and the stubborn bastards haven’t let Sanji forget it in his extensive time here. Luckily since he’s been here so long and has become Zeph’s valued apprentice, he gets more protection than most.

This time, thankfully, the bastards don’t follow him. Probably learned their lesson the other day.

The rest of the day goes by swiftly, his brothers’ bellies are full and before Sanji knows it he’s already in his chamber, scribbling away with his plans for tomorrow’s dinner and other chores. Along with the stew, he’d made a special beef broth for Zoro as it’s the only thing the man should ingest in his condition.  By the time Sanji’s head hits his pillow, he is slumbering soundly, recuperating for tomorrow, yet another day to slave over.

 

* * *

 

_The shield that guards the realms of men._

Zoro lies awake, contemplating the oath he took six years ago, the one that swore him into the brotherhood.  The mantra he has to uphold and live his life by -- his duty to his brothers, to the realm, and to himself. In everything he does, he tries to live honourably and do right by his obligation, the words of his promise often chanting within his mind.  The scar that will most certainly form across his chest will be a token of that. He shielded his fellow man and still managed to defend his own life, for which he is thankful, though he was prepared to lay it down.

Outside of the walls of small room, he can hear the bustle of the castle as dawn must be breaking.  The pain in his chest hasn’t subsided quite yet, but he’s learned to tolerate the strong ache throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.  He hopes to eat soon, a gnawing in his gut having awoken him from his slumber, his body’s natural fortitude at work. Zeph made promises of breakfast soon when he poked in to stoke the fire.

Sanji shuffles inside the quarters where Zoro still lays, carrying with him by the handle a small metal pot. He closes the door and makes eye contact with Zeph’s patient, who to his surprise is awake. Probably eager for a meal. This broth is the best he’ll get. Sanji hangs the pot over the fireplace. It won’t take long to warm under the blazing heat.

“How are you feeling?” Sanji asks idly.

“Like shit.”

Sanji smirks. “Look like shit. Smell too.”

“Piss off.”

“If I do that, you won’t get breakfast.”

Zoro grumbles to himself, adjusting his shoulders and wincing at the pain.  Being bedridden is not something he’s used to and laying on the thin mattress has his back and shoulders stiffening in ways he hadn’t experienced before.  He’d much rather welcome the soreness of a long day of training than put up with this nonsense. With a heavy sigh, he gives up and turns to look at Sanji once again.

“Broth again?” he inquires, spying the pot steaming over the fire.

“You won’t be able to stomach anything else,” Sanji explains, taking a seat on the wooden stool at Zoro’s bedside.

“Could go for a pint,” Zoro comments with a sly grin, turning a questioning eye to Sanji.

“If it’s alcohol you want, I could rub more wine on your wound,” Sanji says, rebutting Zoro comfortably, blue eyes trained on the man with jest.

“If it means I’ll get a drink.”

Sanji grins in amusement, the expression not leaving his face as a clatter at the door grabs both of their attention. The familiar limping gait unconsciously softens Sanji’s smile as he watches Zeph walk over. Immediately, he stands to check on the broth.

“Entertaining my ward, are you?”

Zoro notices a small spark in Zeph’s eye as the old man acknowledges him.  He’s unsure what it could mean and assumes the Maester’s steward has duties to get on with.

“Just waiting on breakfast.”

The soup only needs another minute or so. Knowing Zeph is about to get on his ass for something or another, Sanji says, “It’s almost hot. Once it’s ready I’ll be on my way, old man.”

“On your way where?” Zeph asks curiously as he moves to the small desk in the corner, looking through the items scattered across the top.

Sanji raises a brow. “My chores.”

“Your only chore for the next couple days is tending to this wounded ninny.”

Befuddlement paints Sanji’s features. “Maester?”

“As my personal steward, you are to obey my command.  I leave this man’s life in your hands.” He pauses to turn to Zoro, eyes narrowing suspiciously.  “If left unattended, he may pull out his stitching trying to swing that blasted sword.” He nods to the greatsword resting in the corner of the room.

Sanji doesn’t respond, simply nods, turning his eyes away to smile gently at the broth nearing boiling point. Zeph is giving him some reprieve for the next couple days. He’s appreciative. It would do the other stewards some good to get off their asses and pick up the slack.

Zoro watches the interaction between the Maester and his steward silently.  Although he doesn’t feel he needs anyone to look after him, he feels appreciative of the Maester’s orders.  With no windows or anyone to interact with, the small room is incredibly stifling, only serving to remind him of the duties he is currently unable to perform.  He had planned to use the time for deep contemplation but in this moment, having a bit of company seems more interesting.

“I’ll check in after lunch -- you may need some more ointment.”  Zeph limps towards the door, stopping in the door frame. “And Sanji?”

Sanji perks up at his name.

“Give him a bath.  He smells of shit.”

Zoro doesn’t take offense to the statement.  His body hadn’t touched water since they went beyond the wall weeks ago.  His eyes leave the closed door and turn back to Sanji, eyebrows raising as he notices the man gripping the metal pot without any cloth over his hand.

“Doesn’t burn?” he questions, surprised at Sanji’s unflinching expression.

Sanji nearly fumbles coming up with a suitable response. “I’m a cook as well as your babysitter, you know.” Grabbing a thick cloth to look less conspicuous, he puts the cloth on his lap as he sits down, placing the pot overtop. Taking a spoon, he plunges it into the broth, teasing, “Guess I have to spoon feed you too, huh, grasshead?”

“Grasshead?” Zoro raises an eyebrow, unsure if he’s heard the man right.

“Never seen hair quite like that,” Sanji responds. Then again, he hasn’t seen much of the outside world, has he. It’s strange that this is the first opportunity he’s had to comment on the peculiar hair colour, despite being stationed at the same castle as Zoro all these years.

“Neither have I,” Zoro comments nonchalantly.  “Don’t know where it comes from. Always been my hair.”  He pauses for a moment. “What about yours? Turning grey already?”

“We’re the same age. Not my time yet.” Sanji says, frowning. He deflects, “Many of our brothers have blond hair.”

“Not quite like that.”  Zoro studies the peculiar shade of blond, the colour more silver than yellow.  The steam rising from the pot in Sanji’s lap catches his eye and the familiar pang of hunger captivates him once again.  “Breakfast?”

Sanji nods, bringing the wooden spoon to Zoro’s lips. He feeds him quietly, relishing in the comfortable silence filling the room. When the pot is empty, he sets it at his feet, getting up to hang a larger pot of water over the fire. He readies Zoro’s bedside for bathing, grabbing a clean cloth and a bar of soap. The silence becomes steadily more agitating as he waits for the water to heat up. Turning his gaze to Zoro’s face, he takes note of the deep set scowl on his features.

“Are you in pain?” he asks.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Zoro says with a sigh, face softening as he glances at Sanji.  “There’s no need to ask how I feel.”

“Right. I’ll just leave the great wildling slayer Zoro to his suffering, then.”

Zoro scoffs with a small chuckle, “Never called myself that.”

He’s aware of the nickname he brandishes around the castle, completely thought up by his fellow rangers who have seen him knock down several wildlings during their excursions north.  He’s not the type to seek them out or hunt them like prey, mostly finding himself in position to take lead when a horde attacks them, always willing to sacrifice for his brothers. The notoriety he’s gained amongst his fellow watchmen is not something he’s ever wanted, it just simply happened.

“No?” Sanji says, visible eye inquisitive. “I figured someone as glory hungry as you would. You likely fancy it anyway.”

“Never claimed to want glory either, blondie.”

Sanji hums, intrigued by the thought of Zoro’s ego permeated reputation contradicted by the humbled man in his company. Ears perking to the gurgling of boiling water behind him, he gets up to retrieve the pot, this time careful to do it with a cloth. He puts it down on the floor by the bed, knowing that by the time he’s done undressing Zoro the water will be a perfect temperature.

“How flexible do you feel?” Sanji questions. “I have to undress you.”

Zoro musters his energy, planting his elbows on the bed sheet as he attempts to rise up and sit forward.  A shock of pain has him lying flat once again, sweat forming on his brow from the immense pressure in his chest and along the laceration.  

“Not very, huh,” Sanji comments with a sigh, taking off the fur blanket and revealing Zoro’s form. “We’ll do our best.”

It’s tedious work and very painful for the man in his care, but Sanji manages to shift and bend Zoro around carefully enough to strip him fully of his clothes and bandages. He doesn’t react to his nakedness or odour, considerate of Zoro’s vulnerability in this state and wanting to preserve his dignity. Sanji goes through his usual routine of cleaning the wound, commenting that it’s looking slightly better to keep his spirits up. It’s the truth, but the laceration is nonetheless an ugly sight to behold and still susceptible to infection. After his sanitation routine is complete, he dips the soap in the steaming water of the pot, coaxing suds to form on the cloth and begins lathering it onto Zoro’s grimy skin. He begins with his feet, intending to work his way up.

Zoro stares forward, Sanji’s position giving him a better view to be able to study the man than when he has to turn his head to the side.  Wanting to concentrate on anything other than the gaping wound across his chest, he tries to think of something to ask Sanji. Despite occupying the same small castle, their lives are vastly different and they haven’t had much of any interaction.  

“How is it learning to be a maester?”

Sanji peers up at the question, lips curving down in wonder. He turns back to the task at hand, lathering Zoro’s legs. “It’s not my intention to be a maester.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, slightly surprised at the response.  In his times spent visiting Maester Zeph for various injuries, Sanji’s always been around as though he was learning from the man, seeking out similar knowledge and skills.  

“What do you intend to be?”

Sanji frowns, shocked by the query to be honest. “I’m not sure,” he answers dumbly, not ceasing his hands from their gentle scrub. “I’ve never thought of a life outside this castle. I was brought here very young.”

Nodding slightly, Zoro picks up on Sanji’s use of the phrase ‘brought here’ -- typically used by the scum that come from down south, plucked out of jailhouses and dungeons.  He knew Sanji had come to the watch at a young age -- it’s a known fact amongst their small brotherhood. Still, it’s interesting to hear it confirmed by Sanji’s own tongue.

“Why are you here?” Sanji poses. “I’ve heard many conflicting stories.”

“Decided it was the best place for me,” Zoro responds indifferently.

“What crime are you guilty of?”

“No crime.”

Sanji stops his scrubbing, staring at Zoro in utter shock. “You chose to take the black?”

Zoro nods again, confirming.  A question often asked amongst the brotherhood but not one he normally likes to answer, everyone’s story for taking the black seems to be more forced than his own.  Many men are exiles from their families or criminals so it’s almost unheard of for a man to voluntarily sacrifice his life to the wall. With the nature of their oath, it’s an opinion he could understand.  To become a night’s watchmen, you must give up your rights as a man -- to sleep with women, bear children, hold lands -- and pledge your life and honour to protect the realm from the horrors to the north.

It was an easy decision for him to come to, considering his circumstances.  A life of honour sounded far more appealing than anything he could offer the world.  However, the last six years have proven to question his decision slightly. Nevertheless, oath-withstanding, he’s bound and  determined to fulfill his obligation. Both of them.

Sanji reflects on what he remembers of taking the oath and reciting words he could scarcely comprehend at the tender age of six. It had been necessary, he knows that and he is forever grateful to Zeph and his departed mother. But he still can’t help feeling heartache in his chest for not having the opportunity to choose a different life before the decision had been ripped away from him. And now here Zoro is in front of him, a man who’d chosen this hell.

“I can’t imagine choosing this life,” Sanji says, bitterness in his tone, his scrubbing on Zoro’s forearm growing harsher.

“Seemed like the honourable choice.”  Zoro watches as Sanji’s fierce scouring marks his skin red.

“Honourable,” Sanji echoes, the word sour on his tongue. “What honour did you find here?”

“The honour of fulfilling a promise.”

Sanji keeps a cool stare on the man, pursing his lips as he mulls over the words. A promise. Zoro must mean the oath. He is certainly the honourable type, someone who would stick to his oath regardless of the circumstance, simply because he’d taken it. That kind of pride is noteworthy, but ultimately stupid. Nevertheless, Sanji decides it best not to badger an injured man with his feelings on the subject any longer. Everyone is entitled to their own way of life, even if that means throwing it away entirely.

After rinsing Zoro’s hair, Sanji wrings the cloth out over the pot and lays it on the edge, completed with Zoro’s bathing. He wipes his hands on his robe and begins the process of redressing him, which isn’t as awful this time around. Zoro’s clothes back in order, Sanji sits back down, eager to continue their conversation in whatever capacity he can. It’s the first time in a long while he’s talked to anyone for more than ten minutes. Anyone who isn’t Zeph. And he can’t help but be intrigued.

“I’ve heard some gruesome stories about it up there. Up north,” he says. “How do you not lose your head?”

Settling back under the fur blanket, Zoro turns his eyes to the ceiling, searching within him for the answer to Sanji’s question.  He’s heard of plenty of rangers going a bit mad over what they’ve seen north of the wall. Cannibalism, savagery, rape, incest -- he’s witnessed it all.  In the face of the beast that is the frozen wasteland to the north, he has always tried to stand unwaveringly, knowing the icy pits will open and swallow any weakness whole.

“Can’t afford to,” he answers honestly.  “That’s asking for death.”

Eyelids drooping, the lingering irritation in his chest fading back to his familiar ache, Zoro feels a surge of sleep reaching for him and tugging him under, knowing his body needs the rest for healing.  Unable to remain focused on conversation for a moment longer, he allows himself to drift into unconsciousness.

Sanji is absorbing Zoro’s resolve as the man succumbs to fatigue. He smirks, getting up to pull the fur blanket back over him. He gathers the utensils he’s used for their session, piling them up in an unused corner of the room to be dealt with later. He tries to make as little noise as possible in the large echoey space. He smirks. Zoro will need his rest if he wants to see another day, after all.

 

* * *

 

Fire, flames and smoke everywhere. Fire and blood. It’s icy cold. He wonders why it’s so frigid while there’s so much fire. The northern savages are attacking their fortress, infesting their walls like mice. The battle cries are fearsome and deafening. Utter chaos is breaking loose in the deepest depths of night. Their men are being hacked to bits, stabbed, gutted alive. The wildlings can’t be satiated as they go berserk on Icemark, the only home they have left.

He can feel their rage, their sorrow, their sheer desperation. Can hear it in their shouts, see it in their swings. Crows are dying, some are fleeing, some hiding in terror. He can’t do a thing about it. Can only fight his way to his destination. He needs to get there in time.

Fire licking at the doorstep to the ward, blackening and weakening its resilient wood. Threatening the man inside, condemning him to an agonizing end, to turn his resolve to ash.

He kicks in the door, rushing inside.

Sanji launches up in bed, gasping for breath loudly, his heart beating wild and fierce like it’s about to shoot out of his chest cavity. He quickly darts off the sheets, grabbing the shortsword at his bedside and unsheathing it as he heads for the door. Scanning outside, he’s met with a cold corridor, the howl of the night’s relentless winds the only battle cry he hears. It’s desolate. Quiet. He tentatively steps out of his room, peering over the platform. Under the moonlight, the castle is intact. The training yard is empty, no sign of his brethren or of wildlings.

Panting, Sanji goes back to his room, dropping his sword to the floor, not bothering to sheathe it. He still feels like he may need it yet. He can’t shake this terror, it’s running straight down his spine. It felt so real. He refuses to believe it’s not. The last time he’d felt panic in this primitive raw form had been years ago.

His memories from back then are so foggy but that dream is still crystal clear in his mind. His mother. His separation from her. Her death. He’d seen it all.

And then it became reality.

Hands shaking as he stares at them, the fear inducing dread raises Sanji’s hair and makes his skin crawl. He abruptly stands, picking up his sword, sheathing it and dashing out the door.

Zeph needs to know.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

_ ii. _

 

Five urgent knocks on the door to Zeph’s chambers. Sanji waits impatiently outside, pressing his ear to the wood to listen inside for any sound of the man stirring. His knuckles hit the door for another round of rapid knocks until it swings open brusquely. Sanji steps back, knowing Zeph will not be pleased to be disturbed at the dead of night. 

“What is this rumpus?” Zeph scolds gruffy, scowling at Sanji from his opened doorway, moving to the side to let the young man pass into the room.  He lights a candle, illuminating the small space.

“I need to speak with you,” Sanji says, voice hushed. He opens his mouth to begin, pausing when he realises he doesn’t know how to breach the topic without sounding completely mad. 

“Well out with it!” Zeph crosses his arms impatiently, looking over his disheveled steward.  “It’s the dead of night!”

“The castle will be attacked,” Sanji blurts, knowing he will sound utterly insane and gives Zeph the most earnest look he can muster. 

“How do you know this, urchin?” Zeph asks seriously, tone softening with concern.

Putting a hand to his head, Sanji can be nothing but truthful. “I dreamt of it. The castle was burning, wildlings were everywhere, hacking up our men --”

“You’ve awoken me at this absurd hour over a nightmare?” 

“It was different than that. A premonition,” Sanji says, shaking his head. How can he make Zeph believe him? “I know it was real. I’ve had one before.” 

Wordlessly, Zeph limps to the small desk tucked away in the corner and seats himself in the wooden chair.  His hard stare remains on the young steward as he implores further, “Premonition. When did you have one before?”

“When I was a boy,” Sanji states. “I dreamt of being forced to leave mother, of you bringing me here to the wall. I dreamt of her dying in her sleep, succumbing to her illness after I was gone. It never left me.” Sanji looks to Zeph, waiting for a reaction. His mentor’s blank mulling expression is all he receives. Desperate, he continues, gesturing around him, “It all came true. It was the only dream I’ve ever had like it -- until now. It’s different than just any dream or nightmare. I can feel it.”

A lingering silence settles between them as Zeph remains still and unreadable.  Finally, in a low voice, he responds, “If something like what you saw ever comes true, you need to leave the Night’s Watch.”

“Leave?” Sanji repeats, brow furrowing. “We must do something. These men will die.” 

“There’s nothing we can do,” Zeph states candidly, motioning towards his door.  “The Lord Commander would think you mad if you run to his chambers speaking of dreams and premonitions.  You must look out for yourself, Sanji.”

At the man’s rare use of his name, Sanji turns his gaze to the wooden planks of the floor. He knows Zeph is right. Perhaps there is a Lord Commander somewhere on the wall who might believe him, but definitely not the one they serve under. He looks back up, catching Zeph’s blue eyes in a careful gaze. “If I do, you will come with me?” 

“In that situation, I would do what’s best as Maester of this castle,” Zeph says gruffy.

Sanji isn’t satisfied with that answer, knowing the old man to be stubborn. He silently resolves to chip away as best he can. “What of my oath?” he asks softly. 

“In matters of life or death, you must never let a little boy’s utterance of a man’s oath keep you from doing what is right.”

Sanji clenches his fist, sending Zeph unyielding eyes as he digests his mentor’s words. It’s true that his oath means nothing to him. A little boy of six who takes a vow because he is told to and not because he chooses to cannot possibly treat it as genuine. But if he is to abandon his fellow watchmen due to his own futility and disingenuous vow, at the very least he cannot abandon the man who has protected and educated him all these years long. He will prepare for the best case scenario of course, which would be the old man relenting to an escape. However he must also be resolved to die here with Zeph. 

“You are my great uncle. You must come with me. That is what is right to me.” 

“You are speaking in speculation, not in knowledge, urchin.” Zeph chides gently, with no bite in his voice.  “Go back to your chambers. There are no wildlings here tonight.”

It takes Sanji a long pause to unravel from his anxieties, but eventually he concedes. He turns to the door but just as his fingers loop around the handle, he says over his shoulder, “It will happen soon.” He then exits Zeph’s chambers without another word, not glancing back to see the Maester’s reaction, unease churning in his gut.

 

* * *

 

“What in seven hells are you up to?” 

Zoro glances to the door from where he lies, brow sweaty and chest heaving from a recent attempt at sitting up.  The pain had proven unbearable once again and he achieved nothing but increasing the ache in his torso. Despite his best efforts, his body still can’t handle more than lying flat.  A frustrating fact that he’s growing more and more tired of by the hour.

“Thought I’d get my own breakfast,” he jokes through laboured breaths, a small grin forming to try to deflect from his situation.

Sanji closes the door and strides in with a steaming bowl in hand, sighing exasperatedly. “You are an impossible man to care for,” he grouses, sitting in his usual stool by the bedside. He tilts the bowl towards Zoro, showing him its contents. “I have something more solid for you today. If you vomit, you’ll be popping your stitches to wipe it up.” 

Zoro eats greedily, never before so happy to be faced with bland porridge.  Once he’s had his fill, he exhales a contented sigh, stomach satisfied of its earlier pangs.  He had welcomed the early morning hours with more energy than his prior two days, a good sign of his continued recovery.  Now if only he could sit up and move his body, he could be back training in no time. 

With a curious glance, he asks mockingly, “Are you banished to my tending today?”

“No, thank the gods,” Sanji says under his breath. “I’m riding south today for supplies.”

Zoro nods with understanding.  Perhaps if he sleeps away most of his day, he will be able to achieve his goal of sitting up tomorrow.  

“I wanted to ask,” Sanji begins, fingers clenched together in an agitated grip. “Those wildlings that attacked your band. How far north of the wall were they?”

Zoro’s eyes lower, taking note of Sanji’s white-knuckled clutch.  Peering back up, he raises an eyebrow at the question. “Three days ride straight north, another day west.”  He pauses to think. “Or possibly east.”

Sanji frowns, absorbing the conflicting information with a perturbed, far off stare. Suddenly, the door opens and Zeph hobbles in with his usual scowl. Sanji gets up, eager to be on his way. He has much to get done today. 

“Are you off?” Zeph asks gruffly, not bothering to send a glance Sanji’s way, instead shuffling to Zoro’s bedside.

“I’ll be back before dusk,” Sanji responds quietly, giving Zeph an unsettled look before hustling out the door. 

Zoro stares up at the surly, old maester as he peels back the fur blanket and scans the bandages on his chest.  He grimaces as a large hand presses roughly on his wound.

“You’ll be stuck in here at least ten days,” Zeph assesses with a sharp nod, removing his hand.

Zoro balks at the evaluation.  “That long?” 

“Are you questioning my knowledge and ability?” Zeph challenges with a glare.

“No,” the younger man grumbles in response, closing his eyes to collect himself.  Ten days stuck inside this small room, unable to train or help his brothers. It seems like an eternity.

He hears the clinking of the Maester’s chains and the limping gait as he steps away from the bedside to the other side of the room.

“I’m not pleased, either,” Zeph gripes as he sinks down onto another small stool tucked away under the wooden desk.  “You’ve used almost all of my bandages and supplies. That’s why I’ve lost my steward for the day.”

“Won’t be a burden,” Zoro assures, settling himself under the fur blanket once again.  “Plan to rest.”

A comfortable silence establishes in the room, Zoro listening to the scribbles of Zeph writing’s and the unfurling of scrolls.  As he starts to drift, the old man catches his attention as he speaks in a low voice.

“You have my thanks for entertaining my steward the past two days.  He has trouble making friends around here.”

Zoro opens his eyes, turning to look Zeph, who is still scrawling on a scroll.  “Didn’t have a choice really,” he responds with an amused snort. 

“Didn’t have to give him conversation either,” Zeph twists to look at him from his stool, his normally cold blue eyes warm with gratitude.  “Could use a great deal more of that. He’s a lonely little twat.”

Zoro watches with a peculiar expression as Zeph turns back to his writings.  Closing his eyes once more, he begins to once again drift asleep, the Maester’s words lingering in his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Zoro uses his left hand to scratch his unscathed shoulder, ignoring the pain the motion causes in the centre of his chest.   Used to it by now. He slept most of yesterday and throughout the night and yet he was still unable to sit up this morning, having tried harder than ever before. Sanji scolded him when he came in this morning, one portion of his bandages tinted pink from straining too hard.  Breakfast eaten, bloodied bandages changed, and they were back in what’s become their normal positions -- himself lying flat on the bed while Sanji is seated on a stool bedside.

“What are they like? The wildlings. I’ve heard they’re barbaric.” 

Zoro glances at Sanji, interest piqued.  The man’s been so damn interested in the north their last few talks.  He assumes it’s due to his position as steward. It wouldn’t surprise him if Sanji had never stepped foot beyond the wall.

“Free folk,” he corrects offhandedly.  “Some are, some aren’t. Similar to us.”

“Free folk,” Sanji repeats, intrigued by Zoro’s use of the term. “Do you sympathise with them?” 

“No,” Zoro replies honestly, adjusting himself so that his arms are resting behind his head.  This time he winces. “Don’t feel they’re all bad though.”

“I’ve only ever seen a handful in my time here,” Sanji reflects. “Captives here at the castle. Seemed to me more animals than men.” He pauses, waiting for a response but none comes, just cold eyes staring at him. “Your last expedition, what was it for?”

“To track down a raid leader.”  Zoro turns away from Sanji, laying his head back on his arms and staring at the wall before him.  “Rumour was he planned to attack the wall.”

Sanji tenses instantly. He leans forward and asks in quick succession. “Attack the wall here, at Icemark? Were they dealt with? Are they still a threat?”

Feeling the tense change in atmosphere, Zoro studies Sanji out of the corner of his eye, taking in his agitated body language and worried expression.  With a confident grin, he nods towards his chest, “Fucker did this.” He turns his head and connects his eyes with Sanji. “So I gutted him.”

Sanji prys further for clarification. “He was their leader?” 

“That group’s,” Zoro confirms.  “One of hundreds.”

Sanji nods, taking in the information. Hundreds of wildling leaders. It almost causes him to visibly shudder. Several of those leaders and their hordes could be an immediate threat to Icemark. His dream is still at the forefront of his mind. “Were you tasked with tracking more of them before you got cut?” 

“He was our main goal.”  Zoro’s expression sets in a deep scowl as he reflects on their time north, before their target attacked his group.  “Found a village along the way.”

“A village?” 

“Just a small one, some women and elderly.”  Zoro lowers his eyes, focusing on the fire crackling behind Sanji.  “Our brothers burned it down.”

Catching the way Zoro’s eyes seem to almost crack while staring into the flames, Sanji’s tense expression shifting to one of repulsion. He growls out, “Men of the Night’s Watch would harm women and the elderly?”

Zoro keeps his hard stare fixed on the orange and red hues of the embers, his mind elsewhere, back in that village.  The cries of children. His own refusal to participate. He answers, his voice low, even. “Lord Commander’s orders. All wildlings to be killed on sight.”

Sanji stares on, eyes hardening, heart sinking. There can’t possibly be a justifiable reason for such brutality. The wildlings may be barbaric, but killing the women and elderly should be seen as a much greater sin. He’s heard whispers of Lord Commander Morgan’s cruel streak, but to what extent his malice goes beyond the wall, Sanji could never fully deduce as a steward who keeps to himself. He knows his next question could lead him into dangerous territory, and yet he’s somehow assured that he can be honest in Zoro’s presence. Sanji asks tacitly, testing the waters, “And what do you think of the Lord Commander’s orders?” 

Zoro’s gaze is pulled from the hot fire and settles on Sanji’s penetrating stare.  He searches the sea blue, finding confirmation that he’s in similar company.   To speak ill of the Lord Commander and his orders could be taken as a treason at their watch -- Morgan thinking himself of high prestige.  Most of the rangers at their castle are blood hungry and they enjoy being supported in hunting and killing the free folk. The loyalty to their leader is outstanding, even when his decisions are less than honourable.

Zoro answers with conviction, his gut telling him that Sanji can be trusted.

“His orders are a pile of shit.”

A gentle smile spreads across Sanji’s face and he chuckles lightly. Wildling slayer Zoro is certainly not the man he expected to find here. He tests further. “Does it ever make you question your oath?”

Zoro frowns.  “No. He’s still my Lord Commander.”  He breaks eye contact, the words of his oath tumbling in his mind.  “I respect the watch. My vows do not falter.”

Leaning back, Sanji crosses his legs and arms and carefully studies the bedridden man before him. Such single-minded horseshit, this oath. The words slip from his lips in a low growl, “I could never do it.”

An amused smirk spreads across Zoro’s face, Sanji’s words intriguing him.  “Yet you’re still here,” he comments nonchalantly. “Bound by oath.”

Sanji glares hard, hands clenching tightly over his upper arms. He speaks under his breath. “Bound is a suitable word for it.” There’s a short pause as Sanji thinks critically on their conversation while Zoro remains quiet. Feeling resolved, Sanji looks to the floorboards. Judging by the strength of the sunlight peeking under the door, noon is fast approaching. He stands, explaining, “Time to prepare your lunch.”

Zoro takes notice as Sanji moves to the opposite side of the room, away from the door.  The man pauses before his greatsword where it still rests against the wall, the gold and white hilt hidden in the shadows.  Sanji grips it carefully and tugs it to lean against the foot of the bed.

Puzzled, Zoro asks, “What’s this?”

Sanji reveals a lighthearted look. “Harmony’s the name, correct? Your beloved companion.” He smirks, before turning on his heel and stepping towards the door, calling over his shoulder. “Keep it close.”

 

* * *

 

He’s in his bed, barely skimming the surface of unconsciousness when two earsplitting horns blare at the peak of night. Jutting up in absolute horror, Sanji stills himself, listening to the sounds of men rising from the barracks underneath, the clangoring of doors flinging open, of urgent voices bellowing. He already knows that chaos is about to be unleashed on Icemark. Two blasts of the horn. Wildlings. These men are doomed, just as he’d seen in his dream. It’s coming true. And there will be nothing he can do to stop it. Nothing he could have done to spare the lives of these men. Sanji grits his teeth. 

His priority is Zeph, first and foremost. As planned. He darts out of bed, throwing on his cloak before hooking on his belt with his shortsword attached. Then he grabs his prearranged bag of supplies and crosses the strap over one shoulder. He twists his head to the door as another two consecutive blasts from the horn chant into the barren sky. Clutching onto the grip of his bow and slinging a full quiver over his other shoulder, Sanji sprints out of the door. He hasn’t much time. 

Zoro’s eyes fly open at the sound of the wall’s horn calling to them twice in the dead of night.  His heart thumps wildly in his chest, his trained senses keenly tuning to the stirring of the outside walls as his brothers shout to one another and prepare themselves for combat.  Above, he can hear the noises and feel the vibrations of an intense battle already raging, the faint echoing cries of Icemark’s leaders ordering position. A sneak attack in the middle of the night.  

Immediately his body jerks forward, wanting so desperately to dart up and run out to join the fray and fight alongside his brethren.  His frenzied motion is met with a blindingly agonizing pain furiously burning within his chest and gut, halting him before he’s anywhere close to sitting up.  

“Fucking shit!” he swears through gritted teeth, gripping the sides of the bed and attempting to force himself forward.  The pain proves too unbearable and he lays flat again, centring his focus as his chest heaves, resolving to get the hell out the bed.

“Defend the gate!”

Panic-stricken brethren of the night’s watch flee to various stations across the castle as the Lord Commander cries out his orders from the platform, sword drawn and raised to the sky.  Wildlings launch flaming arrows from beyond the south gate where a horde of them are gathered after breaching an abandoned castle west of Icemark. Thousands more assemble to the north, sending an assault of arrows, spears, and catapults high into the midnight air and raining fire down onto the watchmen guarding the wall.

“Stewards!  Put out the flames!”

Bodies race in throngs, gathering water to stifle the numerous pockets of flames the wildlings have set off with their blazing weaponry.  Screams rise into the pitch black as men are speared with projectiles and fall to their deaths. An unending swarm of wildlings scale the front gate and the platform gatehouse, butchering crows as they penetrate Icemark’s walls.

From above, a red-hot, fiery spear launches over the wall, stabbing a drum of oil from the top and crashing into the centre courtyard, raining flames over the structure and exploding in a combustion of fire.  Some men scream with misery as the sea of fire splashes them, engulfing their clothing immediately and scorching their skin.

The force of the explosion has Sanji stumbling on the railing of the catwalk, ears ringing. He groans and glances to the source of the impact in terror to see flames burning wild in a manifold of locations around the castle. It’s already begun. Flaming projectiles and spears are soaring onto their side of the wall -- Sanji doesn’t even have time to analyse the capability of such a feat. He has to find Zeph. This is all unraveling too fast for his liking. 

A shrill mass of shouts reaches his ears, battle cries from the south gate of the castle, a horde of wildlings scattering inside. He looks back only briefly, wondering in horror how they managed to attack them from the front. Sanji sprints on, wholly ignoring orders for his faction to put out the flames, heading for the back gate where he’d previously seen Zeph rush over to. The battle hungry roars and desperate wails of men clashing are projecting from behind him, steel against steel as the wildlings push forward in their walls. It has Sanji’s blood pumping wildly in his veins. 

He finally spots his mentor giving orders at the north gate, their watchmen lined up to defend against the wildlings on the other side barraging the gate with a force unknown. Sanji calls his name and sprints up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around. 

“We have to get out of here now!” Sanji shouts in High Valyrian over the deafening bangs and the horn still blasting above. “We aren’t going to win this battle!” 

“What are you doing here, urchin?” Zeff roars back in the same tongue, gripping Sanji by the shoulders and pulling him close.  “You must get out! Leave!”

“I won’t leave without you!” Tears prickle at Sanji’s eyes as he grips Zeph’s arms tightly, desperately trying to tug him back. He has everything planned, he just needs Zeph to relent for one moment. “Please come with me, now!” 

“This is how I’ve chosen to live my life, Sanji!  Now go, live yours!”

“I won’t leave you --!”

There’s a woosh and a thud. Warmth splatters on his face and neck, the large form in his grip jerking and slackening, tumbling to the ground. Sanji blinks, opens his eyes, stomach dropping in agonizing horror when he looks down and sees the crimson red blood and an arrow embedded in the side of his great uncle’s skull. His eyes have already grown distant and cold by the time Sanji bends down to search them for life. His chest is winding in on itself tightly -- he can barely breathe. This can’t be real.

Sanji hadn’t seen this in his dream, of which he’s now certain is a merciless nightmare.

Something whistles past his ear at tremendous speed, grazing his hair and splintering against the stone wall beside him. Sanji twists his head back, urgently searching for the source, eyes catching with a wildling many feet behind him drawing his bow and grinning with bloodlust while preparing a second shot. 

Sanji has no time to mourn. His second priority is main objective now. He abandons Zeph where his body lays and rolls to the side, avoiding the second arrow. Sanji acts fast, pulling an arrow from his quiver and drawing his bow, aiming right for the bastard scum’s throat. His jaw is clenched, knuckles white on the grip, eyes burning when he releases the string, the arrow landing exactly where he’d intended. Blood explodes from the wildling’s neck and Sanji’s glare doesn’t relent, watching as the barbarian fucker’s smug smirk twists desperately while he gurgles and chokes to death on his own blood. 

Seeing a rush of more wildlings who must have weaved through the battle at the castle’s south gate, Sanji warns at the top of his lungs to the men stationed at the north gate over the increasing mayhem.

“Enemies to the south, men! Behind you!”

As they turn around to see the approaching threat, Sanji dashes to the side, scaling a wooden staircase. Halfway up he uses his bow once more to pick off more of their wild intruders from afar, lodging three arrows into savage flesh before breaking off into a sprint, heading to the north end of the fort. He clenches his fists -- his second priority is not these men. Seeing that the intensity and scale of the fire has grown and spread significantly, Sanji runs faster, panting as he goes. Smoke is billowing, causing mass confusion and panic all over the courtyard. He looks across, brows creasing when he sees the flames are spreading toward his destination.

He can’t fail again. 

Gasping for air, Zoro feels drops of sweat rolling down the back of his neck as he continues to strain, the front of his bandages already stained crimson with his attempts to get out of bed.  He’s halfway up, sword in hand as he managed to use his feet to slide it into his stretched grip. His muscles are pulsating, stinging and burning with pain. He knows he’s undone most of his healing, the slash across his chest feeling ripe and new.  His struggling has been met with much resistance, his physical condition unable to match his blazing need to stand and not succumb to death within these four walls. 

The screams from the courtyard are deafening as he hears the sick echoing sounds of men being beaten and slashed.  The shouting of orders has completely ceased, the noise of chaos overtaking the small space of his ward, motivating him to make it outside and defend his home.  The clank of metal on metal is his driving force as he once again takes a deep breath and prepares himself for another shove. With another loud grunt, he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and clutching Harmony’s hilt as he pulls himself finally into an upright position.  Blood pours through his bandages and down his torso as he catches his breath, his rapidly pulsing heartbeat giving him the energy he needs to continue on.

The battle cries of the wildlings outside his ward are not nearly as ferocious as the lightning bolt of pain shooting within him, causing the edges of his vision to blur and threatening to pull him into unconsciousness.  He feels himself lurch with dizziness and quickly steadies with a white-knuckled grip on his sword. Willing himself to go on, he pushes back the agony and clenches the bed sheets with his free hand, using his strength to twist his body and put his feet to the floor.

Scaling down another set of stairs leading to the courtyard, Sanji hops over it halfway, his bow nocked at the ready. This side of the castle is swarming with bloodshed and carnage, the fires lighting up the area so he can survey his surroundings. He heads in the area of least resistance, the courtyard crawling with the chaos of men battling one-one-one. He tries to slip by as seamlessly as he can. In the peripheral scope of his vision, he sees savages hacking alive their men with axes, bashing their skulls in with blunt objects, ripping into their flesh with arrows and swords. The screams are terrifyingly inhuman, the sheer magnitude of encircling death and destruction nearly has him staggering on his normally swift feet. A lone wildling with a longsword seeking his next dead crow locks his fierce eyes on him. In a panic, Sanji fires an arrow with the slightest shake of his arm and it whirls past the savage’s shoulder. 

The wildling is rushing him now, too close for him to draw another arrow. Cursing at his flub, Sanji unsheathes his sword with lightning speed, dodging the massive swing and dancing around the bastard with nimble feet. As the wildling is recuperating from another vicious lunge, Sanji kicks the back of his knees and downs him, plunging his shortsword into the wildling’s back with a roar. 

He wastes no time, swaying as he dislodges his sword from the struggling body. Panting, he can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he sprints and gracefully dodges past the throngs of warring men in his way. Sanji is so focused on the flames licking at the doorstep to the ward that he doesn’t notice thundering hooves on the verge of trampling him to his right. He glances up just in time to jump back, narrowly escaping being flattened to the ground by a black horse -- with, as he gleans upon looking up, the Lord Commander himself on its back. In no immediate danger, he only has to pause for seconds to witness the horse bolt to the wide open south gate, Morgan gruesomely trampling one his own brethren in his haste. And just like that, the Lord Commander disappears south beyond the gate. 

Sanji scowls, bolting to the ward which is just ahead. The bottom of the door is aflame, crawling up and threatening to unleash a blazing fury. He slips his blade back in its scabbard and without hesitation lifts his leg. 

Zoro’s attention is captured to entrance of the room as Sanji bursts through the door with a loud crack.  He stays still, hunched forward and gripping his sword for support from where he’s managed to take two steps toward the centre of the room.  Their eyes connect and he sees a flash of relief fill the sea blue iris before Sanji springs to action.

“You can stand?” Sanji asks in a rushed tone, stalking immediately over to Zoro. He sees the bloodied mess that has become of his bandages. His eyes widen in surprise. It’s amazing that he’s not currently unconscious on the floor, possibly even dead. “We have to leave now!” 

As Sanji tries to drape his arm across his narrow shoulders, Zoro musters the energy to shove the man away, grunting through laboured breaths as he takes another step forward, “Must fight.”

Sanji huffs as he’s pushed, but in his concern doesn’t waste a second bouncing back, stopping Zoro with a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do fuck all in your condition! It’s a bloody massacre out there! Come with me now!” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Zoro tries to pull out of Sanji’s hold to take another step forward.  “I’m fighting.”

Suddenly a massive figure jumps over the flames in the doorway, entering the room with his axe hoisted, roaring a fierce battle cry.  Zoro’s eyes widen at the familiar markings across the bald head and the look of bloodlust he’s encountered several times before.

A fucking Thenn.

Instinctively his hand grips the hilt of his sword, ready to draw.  As he attempts to unsheathe his weapon, the sharp pain in his chest pierces him, causing him to stagger and use Harmony to steady himself rather than its intended purposes. A glimmer of deadly desire sparks in the Thenn’s eyes as he lunges forward, Zoro rendered unable to fight for the first time in his life at the wall.

Hand still on Zoro’s shoulder, Sanji tugs him back forcefully, allowing him to dodge the blow and narrowly avoiding it himself. His skin crawls when he looks up and sees the massive wildling’s eyes are animalistic and crazed, looming in on his form. The gnarled scars on his face are hair-raising and has his body moving on impulse. The barbarian must have seen him come in earlier amidst the madness. As long as he can keep the savage focused on him and not Zoro, he can still yet fulfill his resolve. Heart beating fiercely in his chest, Sanji darts back to put some distance between them and draws his shortsword with a twirl of the handle, intending to win this fight with speed versus brawn. 

Zoro braces himself to the wall he landed against when Sanji shoved him away from the Thenn.  Sweat drips down his face as he stares at Harmony lying on the ground next to him; he’s completely useless to it in this moment that it so desperately needs to take action.  He’s sure any motion to try to pick it up would end in him falling to the ground unconscious. His body is too weakened. Too weak, too injured, too exhausted to clash steel against steel.

“You crows and your puny swords,” the Thenn sneers with a mocking laugh.  “Ain’t going to kill me with that.”

The savage lunges with a blaring yell, smashing his axe down. Sanji dodges to the side, surprised by the large man’s speed. He takes his chance to counterstrike when he sees that his opponent’s weapon is buried in the splintered planks of the floor. He needs to end this quickly, one misstep could get him and Zoro killed. He’s never faced someone one-on-one of this calibre before. Fuck, until those two horns blared into the night, most of his experience had only been from the training grounds. 

Sanji swipes his sword across, intending to cut the man’s throat but his wrist is caught, rendering Sanji’s arm immobile. Desperate from the unexpected entrapment, Sanji goes to kick him but not before the man backhands his face with gruesome force, leaving the axe standing up on its own in the wood. Sanji slackens in his grip for a split second, painfully absorbing the vicious blow with ringing ears, the air lost in his lungs. His shortsword is battered out of his fist and it clatters to the floor. He faintly hears the savage taunt him with a laugh, before opening his eyes, horrified to see his enemy kick the sword far across the room. 

As the shortsword is kicked away, Zoro takes a deep breath, ignoring the agonizing pain in his chest as he lurches towards where the wildling’s weapon is still embedded in the floor.  If he can get his hands on the axe, he knows from experience how to wield that blade against its owner. He is stilled in his tracks as a fierce spasm rips into him, causing him to double over in pain and gurgle blood up his throat, choking and coughing as crimson speckles the wooden floor.

“What now, little crow?” 

Utterly sick of being toyed with, Sanji clenches his teeth and plants his foot hard in the bastard’s stomach, pulling his wrist away from his grip as the man grunts and curdles over. He uses this opportunity to grab his bow, fingers shaking violently as he attempts to nock it. The bastard makes a faster recovery than he expected, the wood scattering as he hoists the axe from the floor. Sanji draws and fires, heart thumping as the arrow lodges itself in the savage’s ribcage. Sanji’s breathing quickens and he stumbles back for more distance as the wildling races forward with a bloodthirsty grin, not fazed in the slightest. 

Having no time to nock another arrow, Sanji curses and rolls out of the way of another fierce swing of the axe. He can only skirt his attacks until he finds a weapon that he can strike this relentless beast with, or until he can glean the right distance to land an arrow in his head or heart. Panic is overloading him as he avoids another strike by a hair’s breadth which nearly cleaves him in half, leaving a deep graze on his arm. His muscles are screaming, lungs burning, he’s not sure if he can maintain the agility he needs if the fight toils on like this. 

In a last ditch effort, Sanji dodges another monstrous swing of the axe and rolls gracefully to his feet, dashing towards the fireplace for suitable distance. Before he can draw his bow, the massive wildling is on him, snatching Sanji’s bow by its limb and one-handedly smashing it against the mantle of the fireplace. It splinters into two halves on the sturdy edge, arrow clattering into the fire, Sanji's stomach dropping with it. Just as his back smacks miserably against stone, Sanji notices a pot of boiling wine dangling over the crackling heat and a vibrantly lit iron firepick embedded in the heart of the roaring fire. Neck constrained from the pole of the wildling’s battle axe, Sanji’s windpipe is in danger of being crushed if not for his hands pushing back at the handle. He grunts with strain, knowing he has no chance of winning a match of raw power against this beast. The bastard leans into his face with that horrendous grin. 

“I’ll chop off those pesky legs and while you bleed, I’ll make you watch me gut the Wildling Slayer.”

Eyes going wild at the sickening taunt, Sanji’s body surges with reinvigorated energy and his leg lashes out instinctively, brutally kicking the barbarian in the groin, then again in his chest where the arrow from earlier is still lodged. He won’t go down this easy, not when he’d resolved himself not to fail again. Zoro won’t be able to protect himself if he dies. He must win. 

Having taken two sensitive blows, the bastard stumbles back with growl. Sanji hastily takes his opportunity, twisting to bare handedly grab the large pot from the flames and fluidly lifting it in one solid swing, throwing the scalding thick liquid all over his opponent’s buckled form. The man lets loose a blood curdling howl, the exposed skin from his pelts and leather sizzling and searing as Sanji ferociously shouts and whacks him in the head with the pot as hard as he can muster. The savage thumps on the ground, axe cluttering away. 

His body shaking violently, Sanji stays in his place and gasps heavily as he locks his eyes on the writhing form on the ground, waiting for the barbarian’s muscles to slacken. When he stills, Sanji closes his eyes, sighing in utter relief before letting the pot slip from his grip, falling to the floor with a clang. 

“Get your sword! Stab him!”

Shocked out of his reprieve by Zoro’s urgent warning, Sanji’s eyes land on the scalded man who is twitching and attempting to rise. Twisting around desperately, his bare hand clutches onto the glowing handle of the firepick in the flames and he lunges with a scream, furious and raw. He plunges the searing pick into the savage’s skull -- then again, and again, wanting to make sure the bastard is finally dead. 

His breaths are panicked and Sanji doesn’t move from his spot on his knees by the slayed savage. The bare skin of his hand is sturdily clutching the firepick, the iron glowing brilliantly orange and further blistering the flesh around the dead man’s skull. He can hear a blazing fire at their only exit, the sound finally beginning to loosen his fist around the pick and ground him back to reality. A reality where danger is still all around them, even if the threat of this one man has met its end.

Zoro stares hard at the red-hot iron that should be searing Sanji’s hand.  The flesh seemingly appears unscathed, a bewildering sight and he’s unsure if he can trust his eyes or if it’s a hallucination caused by his pain.  He turns his vision to the dead Thenn lying before them, unable to feel relief as he hears the distant echo of wildling cries bellowing into the night.

Clenching his slashed torso, blood oozing from under the tattered bandages and soaking his fingertips, Zoro faces the open door, gathering all his remaining energy in preparation to step beyond the flames and join his brothers.  He takes a staggering step forward and groans loudly as he feels himself slipping into darkness, his body giving out beneath him, unable to move on. Knees buckling, he starts to fall but succumbs to the plunge of unconsciousness before he hits the floor.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the TV series, Thenns are known to have the most advanced weaponry of all the Free Folk. They are also cannibals. This differs slightly from the ASOIAF books, but we decided to use inspiration from GoT instead.
> 
> Thank you so much for your well-reception of this fic. We weren't sure how many folks would be interested and feel completely blown away by the support we've received so far. Your words bless us!
> 
> If you have any questions regarding the lore of this world, feel free to ask. We will gladly answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have explanation to parts of this world in the end note. It does contain spoilers for the chapter but if you find you don’t understand certain references, information is waiting for you.

 

 

_iii._

 

Light flutters against his eyelids, stirring him from an unconscious haze.  Mouth twisting to a scowl he blinks once, twice, and his eyes open for what feels like the first time in days.  His head is still heavy and there’s a distinct ache throbbing in his torso. As his blurry vision clears, he finds he’s still staring at a ceiling but this one is distinctly new.  Cleaner, lighter, and most certainly not Castle Icemark.

A jolting memory hits him and his eyes widen, body automatically attempting to spring upright in fight or flight response.  Icemark, Wildlings, fire…he remembers so much fire. The wound across his chest instantly screams at him for the sudden movement and he finds himself once more confined to keeping his back against the mattress, the agony worse than ever before.  Needing to figure out where he is, Zoro twists his head to scan the room and is met with the sight of a modest, empty cottage. To his relief, he spies his sword leaning against the wall near him. Red embers burn subtly in the pit on the other side of the room.  Most curiously, a small bag is nestled near the foot of his bed and a stool sits next to it, looking as though someone else recently occupied that space.

His mind races, thoughts swirling back to his last moments of consciousness.  It’s clouded, all his memories strewn together in chaos. The horn bellowing twice, blood -- _his_ blood -- everywhere, and the murderous intent of a vicious Thenn.  Pulse rising, hands fisting the blanket tucked around him, Zoro squeezes his eyes closed, mustering all his energy to try and recall what happened.  Fighting, fire, blood curdling screams. His tattered bandages, the ward, Sanji. _Sanji._ His eyes snap open again.

“Sanji?”

With a soft breath Sanji releases the arrow, toppling the hare which had paused for just a second too long. It makes a small sound but soon stops twitching. He’d hit it in the neck to ensure a quick death. Rising from his crouched position in the forest, Sanji hops over to his kill, picking it up by its hind legs. Supper tonight. He hopes to get Zoro to stir so he can get some nourishment into him.

In the three days he’s been tending to Zoro, he’s only managed to get him to eat some broth in his hazey state. After escaping Icemark’s scorched fate, Sanji rode south with the severely injured man’s arms wrapped around his front, hands tied to keep him from falling. It hadn’t been ideal for Zoro’s condition, but he had no choice. Now it feels like all his healing has been undone. But thanks to his tedious care, Zoro is already showing signs of improvement.

Their predicament isn’t great, but there’s nothing to be done, no decision to be made until Zoro has recovered. Sanji is just taking it day by day, content that he managed to save one person amidst the chaos. A deep heaviness weighs in his heart. He’s glad to have kept Zoro alive until this point, but Zeph’s death is rattling him. Putting his mind in intense shock, sending him reeling. He never considered having to exist without his great uncle. The man had been his entire world for almost as far as he can remember. He keeps mulling over what he could have done better. There should have been a way to save him.

He doesn’t know how to press forward from here, but what he does know is without Zeph waiting for him at the wall, Sanji is resolved to never return, oath or not, dead or alive. He will never go back to the hell he’d sworn himself to as an innocent child. He has better prospects to live for, or to die for.

Making his way to the tiny abandoned cottage he’s made their temporary home, Sanji checks his surroundings for any differences or disturbances. A habit he’s growing used to, looking over his shoulder is becoming a constant. He’d even had to release their horse into the wilderness to avoid any sign of life outside the cabin. He’s been diligent about smoke from the fireplace too, keeping their fires small and for when the sky is dark enough to disguise the rising smoke from the chimney. They only need the warmth for the chill of night anyway, as well as for cooking which has been forcing late meals upon them.

By the time Sanji arrives at the stone cottage, it’s sundown and the hare has been upside down in his swaying grip long enough to be almost dry of blood. He double checks his surroundings once more, finding pleasantly that everything is as he’d left it. He shoulders the door open, eyes darting to the first direction he always glances to, the bed. He’s surprised to find a pair of coal black eyes staring back at him this time.

Closing the door slowly, Sanji expresses softly, “So you’re awake.” He drops the hare by the fireplace and trods over to Zoro’s bedside, taking a seat, waiting for a reaction he knows by now won’t come unless he initiates further conversation. “How are you feeling?”

“Where are we?” Zoro inquires seriously, ignoring Sanji’s question.  He’s tired of answering it anyway.

Sanji wrings a cloth out over a bucket of cold, fresh water by his feet. He explains cooly, “An abandoned village outside of Queenscrown.”

“How?” Zoro shifts under the blanket, gingerly tugging his arms from where they’re tightly lodged beneath the warmth.  He succeeds in his goal, sighing gently as he rests his hands at his sides, flexing his fingers and feeling the blood return to them.  He studies Sanji as he waits for a response, noticing a fading bruise on his cheek. The Thenn. Anger ignites within him at the recollection of the man’s battle with the looming figure.  He was too weak to fight, leaving the steward on his own.

“I rode us south after escaping the battle,” Sanji answers, giving the cloth one final twist before bringing it to Zoro’s forehead, patting the sweat off his brow.

Closing his eyes, Zoro allows himself a calm second to enjoy the soothing feel of the cool cloth against his warm skin.  Moment fleeting, he raises his arm, wincing slightly, and clasps his hand over Sanji’s to still the patting. He opens his eyes again and connects their gaze, needing to know more.  “You knew to come here?”

Sanji nods, eyes focusing on Zoro’s hand, letting its warmth sink into his skin. He doesn’t care if Zoro thinks him touched in the head, it will bounce off of him whether the man believes him or not. He has nothing to lose anymore. “I knew of the attack. I dreamt of it several days prior. I took a day to supply this cottage with everything I needed.” His eyes soften in sorrow. “Zeph allowed me to.”

Zoro’s eyes widen at the admission, searching the deep blue staring back at him for any hint of farce.  He finds a solemn sincerity penetrating him, insisting him to believe every word. He’s unsure if it’s the pain in his chest driving him mad or the murky waters still floating in his head from days of sleep, but Zoro finds the piercing conviction to be believable.  Confusion settling in the pit of his gut, he releases the hand he realizes he’s still holding and frowns deeply. “Dreamt? Of the wildlings?”

“Yes. Some might call it a premonition,” Sanji confirms, studying Zoro’s eyes for any disbelief or trepidation. Having lost Zoro’s grip, he tilts back, keeping the moist cloth in his lap as he swings one leg over the other. “Do you believe me? Or do you think me a traitor?”

Zoro keeps a steady gaze on Sanji, mulling the idea in his head.  Perhaps years ago he would have thought the man before him mad, spewing thoughts of premonitions and dreams.  But in his years travelling beyond the wall, scouting that frozen, mystical land, he’s seen several things that would convince even the most shrewd skeptic to become a believer.  Unable to think of any reason to doubt the somber man seated before him, he feels the evidence of his claim beating within his chest. Sanji had come to save him and had prepared a space to continue his recovery.  His life very well may be due to the dream he speaks of.

“I believe you,” Zoro answers earnestly with a subtle nod.  Whether he feels the man a traitor for hauling them off instead of staying behind for battle is another story entirely.  Deciding the empty gnawing of his stomach is much stronger than his desire to implore that further, he shifts his stare to the rabbit waiting by the fire.  “Can we eat?”

Amazed by Zoro’s effortless faith in him, Sanji’s eyes transform from their raw shock to soothing contentment. He follows Zoro’s gaze to the dead hare, lifting off his chair to begin supper with the subtlest of smiles.

Zoro watches as Sanji prepares their supper, fading in and out of sleep as the light outside the window dims into dusk.  He wakes to the feeling of Sanji pressing food to his lips and eats heartily, contented to finally satisfy his hunger. Questions still lingering in his mind, he finds himself wanting to stay aware enough to talk more but the agonizing pain burning along his wound is too much to stave off.  He drifts back to deep slumber, allowing time and rest to heal his injury.

The next time his eyes fully open with alertness, Zoro finds Sanji bent over his chest, gently washing the stitching.  His eyes flicker down, studying the deft hands pressing the cloth lightly to his skin. The injury looks more jagged than it did before but surprisingly, he feels much better than his last day in Icemark.  A result of his days of rest. Sanji prods a particularly sore spot and he grimaces, the tenderness not having subsided nearly as much as he wishes.

Noticing the slight twitch of Zoro’s abdomen, Sanji knows the man is awake. “You’ve slept awhile. Been in and out for two days straight,” he says with a small smirk, knowing Zoro will appreciate the information. “Feeling any better?”

“A bit.”  Zoro keeps his intrigued stare on Sanji’s hands, another memory from the attack on Icemark jolting into his mind.  The battle with the Thenn and the burning hot cauldron. The firepick. Reaching forward, he grips the cool, slender hand into his own and twists to study the palm, eyebrow rising when he finds the flesh smooth and pale.  “No burns.”

Sanji doesn’t pull away from Zoro’s sudden grasp, strangely allured by it. He questions as if unaware of what Zoro is speaking of. “Burns?”

Zoro’s expression falters to a befuddled frown, running a thumb over Sanji’s palm, reflecting on the fight against the Thenn.  He remembers it clearly, the agonizing ache in his gut as he was doubled over in pain, maintaining consciousness long enough to watch the battle end.  Sanji handled the boiling cauldron without any reaction and after being warned, he snatched the pick from the fire with ease. The sound and smell of the wildling’s sizzling flesh was prominent but Sanji had no response.  He faintly recalls another incident, when he first was in the ward, those same hands gripping a hot pot. Was it a dream? The restitched wound across his chest suggests otherwise.

Raising his eyes to meet Sanji’s, Zoro cocks an eyebrow and speaks in a low voice, “Should’ve seared your skin killing the Thenn.”

“So you remember.” Sanji’s eyelids lower, watching Zoro’s thumb on his palm in a trance. If Zoro can believe him about predicting the wildling attack with a dream, he can probably trust him to accept this as well. Under one condition. “If you really want to know, it can’t leave this room. Only Zeph knew. Promise me.”

Zoro keeps his face blank, picking up on Sanji’s use of the word ‘knew.’  The Maester must not have made it. Given what he remembers of that fiery, bloody night, Zoro is still bewildered by the fact Sanji made it out too, all the while lugging him behind.  He squeezes Sanji’s hand and gives it a firm shake, resolved to keep this promise. “Saved my life.” Zoro keeps his hard stare fixed on Sanji. “Wouldn’t betray that.”

As Zoro’s hand closes over his, making that soft gesture of promise, Sanji slips his fingers out reluctantly, retreating his arm to his lap. He knows Zoro is honourable, even more so than his reputation boasted. He has been learning this over the span of their time together. The man in his care would never break a promise.  

“I believe you,” Sanji echoes from days earlier. He takes a breath, pausing with contemplation to deliver this piece of information carefully. “I’ve always had a high tolerance to heat as far back as I can remember. It’s a trait passed down to me, part of my bloodline as the bastard son of a Targaryen. The dreams too.”

Zoro nods in acknowledgment.  He recognizes the name Targaryen to be one and the same as the man currently sitting on the throne.  He’s never crossed paths with one personally that he’s aware of. A bloodline associated with the lore of dragons could certainly have the other abilities Sanji’s describing.  And a bastard -- those he’s come across plenty in his lifetime. Being a man who does not know his own origins, he’s not far off from one himself. He rests his hand on his chest with calm acceptance, fingers gently prodding the slash still exposed from Sanji’s earlier cleaning.  His questions from the past answered, he now needs to focus on looking forward to when they can return to the wall.

Taking a deep breath, Zoro scowls through the pain as he attempts to hoist himself up and finds he’s met with meager resistance.  His injury stings with discomfort but he can withstand it, propping himself up for the first time in days. He returns his gaze to Sanji with a determined grin.  “We’ll make it back soon.”

Sanji smirks at the confident expression, entertained and beguiled that Zoro doesn’t have more questions for him about his strange heritage as the wounded man at last sits up fully. One obstacle after another. This is the breed of man seated in front of Sanji in triumph. He can’t help but find it compelling, inspiring even, the sheer strength of this man who should have long died beyond the wall.

However, his words are worrisome. Sanji had known Zoro never intended to give up on his oath so easily, a small taste of freedom like this could never be enough. And yet he finds himself unsure of how to approach the growing disparity between their intentions regarding this damn oath.

Sanji states boldly. “I don’t intend to return.”

Zoro tilts his head curiously, an amused smirk sprouting on his face.  He crosses his arms carefully, questioning with a scoff, “Is that so?”

A cloud of tension fills the space between them. Sanji scans Zoro’s eyes for any shift in intensity. “I was six years old when I took that oath, just a boy. It was to protect me, but I never chose to take the black. Not as a man. At the time, I had no idea what I was even saying.” Brows furrowing, Sanji’s eyes turn downcast to his lap. “Zeph is dead. I don’t have anything to go back to anymore.” It’s an oath that was a double-edged sword, one which protected him, one which imprisoned him. He grits out, “Certainly not for that oath.”

Arms still crossed, Zoro stays rigid and takes in Sanji’s explanation with unease.  An oath is an oath and to abandon it is a decision he surely does not agree with nor does he intend to support.  Heaviness bearing down on him, his frown deepens. “What of our brothers? The Lord Commander who protected you? No honour in turning your back on them.”

Immediately, Sanji locks his eyes on Zoro, an intense storm raging as he replays the image of their Lord Commander abandoning his men, the pained howl of the unlucky watchman he’d trampled in his rush south. “Honourable, you say? The very Lord Commander who deserted his men during the attack? I watched him escape on horseback with my own eyes. He rode over one of our brothers and discarded his men to flee south.”

Zoro clenches his jaw at the very thought, his skin heating with fury.  So Lord Commander Morgan is a deserter. He often disagreed with their leader’s orders but Zoro never felt he would abandon his men.  Tapping his fingers on his bicep lightly, he stares into the distance, pondering Sanji’s words. He does not doubt what Sanji saw but their Lord Commander is just one man.  Zoro could simply journey to another castle -- Castle Black, maybe -- and continue his oath under a new leader. The depravity and cowardice of one man should not represent the watch in its entirety.  Still resolved to do what is right, he releases the tension he had been holding inside. No need to let it fester.

Peering down to his chest, he’s pleased to find his stitches upheld, not a speck of blood in sight.  Should only be a few more days before he’s fully healed as long as he continues resting and restoring his strength.  Then he can set off. Silently he lowers himself back to the mattress, his head feeling heavy again from the exertion of sitting up and the weariness of their conversation.

Sanji remembers that cold, faraway expression of Zoro’s after revealing the gruesome orders their Lord Commander had given for that vulnerable wildling village. It’s the same look he’s just witnessed upon Zoro’s face now. Not entirely sure how to digest Zoro’s silence regarding the issue, Sanji doesn’t let trepidation fill him until the man has made a full recovery. First and foremost, this is his goal before they separate. He can deal with the consequences later should Zoro attempt to force him back to the watch.

For now, it’s time to collect wood for a fire. They also need fresh meat for supper tonight. Sanji stands, knowing there’s much to do before the issue of their separation can be dwelled upon. He gives Zoro a lingering look before turning on his feet to the door.

 

* * *

 

Several days pass. Each day, Zoro makes tremendous strides in his improvement. One day shy of a week and he’s on his feet, able to drift about the cottage with enough strength to pick up his sword. Sanji is content to not have to dote over the man’s every need anymore, but truthfully he’s happy that Zoro is alive and well. Hiding in the abandoned village goes mostly without a hitch. There is only one incidence of hearing loud voices and hooves riding in the distance, but it proves uneventful, only serving to raise the hair on back of their necks. A few days after, Zoro can deliver a full swing of his greatsword and is energized enough to make the trip north to Castle Black.

Harmony securely resting in her place on his back, Zoro’s proud to feel not even a shudder of discomfort in his chest at the added weight.  He’s worked hard to strengthen himself enough to make this journey back to the wall. His eyes dart around the room, searching every last nook and cranny for anything he may need that’s being left behind.  Finding nothing out of place, his gaze lands to where Sanji’s seated by the fire, skinning his supper.

“You should come,” Zoro says sternly as he crosses his arms.  They had avoided the topic since their last talk many nights ago.

Sanji keeps skinning the rodent without a care. “I already said I’m not going back.”

The corners of Zoro’s mouth stretch further into his scowl as he keeps trained eyes on Sanji.  “What do you intend to do?”

Sanji pauses his knife, turning his eyes to Zoro with contemplation. He remembers the man posing that very same question not long ago at Icemark. How he’d skirted around it like his aspirations meant nothing, when they truthfully meant the world to him. He states honestly with a wide smile. “To sail the seas, travel across lands far and wide, try the foods of every culture I can imagine. I’ve read about the world enough in books and letters. I intend to live in it now.”

Silence hangs between them, Zoro taking in Sanji’s explanation with thoughtfulness.  The beaming grin across the other man’s face and impassioned tone is alluring, he can admit.  To live by the oath and devote himself to the watch had been daunting when he first considered going to the wall but ultimately, it was a decision he had to make.  Unfortunately, he needed to take on this lifelong promise to fulfill another -- one he’d die to keep -- and that sense of duty has not faded. The now withering taste of freedom over the last week has been liberating but it cannot sway him from upholding his truth.  To abandon those working so dutifully to live by the oath for his own pleasures would be a sin.

A puzzled expression crosses his features.  Sanji knew this about him when they spoke previously.  Zoro recalls the man asking if he would ever break his oath and being met with a similarly defiant look in the blue eye turned on him now.  It doesn’t make sense that this man would go out of his way to save him -- someone who could easily bring him back to the place he considers to be his hell.  In a gentler tone, Zoro finds himself asking his final, lingering question.

“Why did you save me?”

Creasing his brows at the question, Sanji goes back to skinning the animal. The answer is simple and tranquil under his breath as he thinks fondly of Zeph. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Keeping your oath is the right thing to do.”

Sanji pauses, eyes darting to Zoro’s stern penetrating gaze once again. The tension between them is thick and electric for a stretched moment, Sanji studying Zoro closely to unearth his true intentions. The cold air exuding off of him sends a chill down Sanji’s spine. He clutches the bloody knife in his hand, unsure if he may need to use it, warily rising to his feet as he says grimly, “You can try to force me back if you want.” He levels the knife between them, pointing it at Zoro in menace. “I refuse to go with you. I would rather die than let that happen.”

Zoro lowers his glare to the knife pointed at him before lifting his eyes again to the desperate man on the other end, threatening him to protect his dream.  Darting his hand forward, he catches the thin wrist in his grip and jerks Sanji to him, closing the space between them as the point of the blade rests breadths from his chest.  “Saved my life,” Zoro speaks in a low growl, unwavering stare penetrating Sanji. “Wouldn’t betray that.”

Eyes flickering in incredulity, the rising flames in Sanji are snuffed out by the staggering integrity of the man before him. He doesn’t pull away from the solid grip on his wrist, doesn’t even consider pushing his knife into the broad chest it’s closing in on. Simply maintains the embering heat of his gaze locked on Zoro, allowing himself to trust him once more for reasons that continue to mystify him.

One last piercing glare and Zoro drops Sanji’s arm callously, stepping towards the door.  Without a second glance, he crosses the threshold into the wilderness, setting off on his journey back to the wall.  Castle Black is his destination, in hopes to find some of their brethren from Icemark had made it alive. Each heavy step reminding him of his commitment as he trudges forward, his mind drifts back to the cottage he’s left behind.

Sanji steps outside to watch him leave, eyes settled on the large blade strapped to a robust back. He’s grateful that the man let him off and completely trusts that he won’t send anyone to hunt him down for treason. While he is happy for his freedom, there’s a pang in his heart as he realizes he’s well and truly alone now. He’ll have to be careful journeying on from here. Raven after raven had been sent to Zeph about the rebellion taking place in the south, and the tensions rising in the north regarding Targaryens.

With Sanji’s distinct Valyrian features, progressing from here will be a challenge in the north. He intends to continue laying low for another day or so to keep studying the route to the next destination on his detailed map of Westeros. He’d stolen it from the castle. Heading back inside, the cottage feels somehow more cold and abandoned than when he’d first discovered it before the attack on Icemark.  

A few hours later, Zoro is still trodding through the woods as he keeps his head forward, eyes focused on getting north.  With luck, he’ll make it to Castle Black in a day’s time. The words of his oath repeat in his mind, knowing he must live and die at his post, even if it means sacrificing his freedoms.   That is what’s right -- it’s what he laid his honour upon. He can’t imagine turning his back on such a heavy burden for no reason other than his own selfishness. Hopefully Sanji will find peace, wherever his dreams take him.  

As he treks onward, he hears the faintest rustling in the thicket, eyes darting to the direction of the sound.  Slipping his fingers under one of the leather straps on his scabbard in preparation of needing his sword, he stops his movement entirely and listens again. Silent for a brief moment and then another faint rustle.  Could be a rabbit or bird. Hopefully nothing more dangerous, he’d rather save his energy for his travels. As he lifts his foot to step forward again, he freezes, the distinct sound of a man’s moan echoing from the forest.  Interest piqued, Zoro slowly wanders deeper into the brush in search of the source, confident he can take down any threat he may stumble upon.

Further amongst the trees and bramble, he spots a horse tied to a branch and black cloak slumped against the tree.  His eyes narrow, recognizing the cloak to be one he’s seen time and time before. A night’s watchman. One of his brothers.  Moving more quickly, he slides off the strap with caution and grips the hilt of his weapon, knowing oftentimes wildlings will pretend to be dead watchmen when trying to attack.  Another moan escapes the heap of black, matted blond hair peeking out from under the garment and he realizes who he is staring at.

“Lord Commander?” he calls out, finally releasing his hold on Harmony and striding to the man’s side.  The pale face glances at him with recognition as Zoro spies a gruesome leg injury. Looks to have been caused by the swing of a hatchet.  The burden must’ve been too much to bear horseback, explaining why the man’s laid on the ground. The soft leaves piled under his body leads Zoro to believe he’s been in this position for a significant amount of time.

“Ah, it’s you,” Morgan says through gritted teeth after peering up at Zoro. “The Wildling Slayer.”

Zoro glares at the man before him, tension in his limbs as he recalls Sanji’s description of this supposed leader abandoning Icemark in its worst hours, leaving their men to die.  “A deserter.” He takes a step forward, bearing down on the man with brutal intensity. “Abandoned your watch.”

Morgan chuckles, voice rusty as he nods, appearing to grasp the situation at hand. “I chose to live so I could fight with my brothers another day. Was on my way to Castle Black, but it’s been a long fucking journey,” he explains, gesturing to his festering leg. “Savage cunts.” He looks back up at Zoro. “Take me there and we’ll have glory together. Heroes of Icemark.”

Pulse rising, Zoro stays firmly planted in his spot before the man, his gaze not once wavering.  “Glory, you say,” he starts, fists clenching at his sides as he chants those words in his mind like he’s done so many times before, “We are men of the night’s watch.  We wear no crowns, win no glory.”

Morgan snorts, twisting his head with a cruel, smarmy smirk. “You know your oath. Proud boy. Proud but dull. Ain’t done you much good, has it? You always did like to disobey my orders, the orders of your Lord Commander.”

“Your orders were shit,” Zoro growls as he reflects on the numerous times he was expected to beat, slay, and massacre innocent lives just for the sheer fact that they lived north of the wall.  He refused to participate in such senseless brutality, with nothing to gain other than pleasing the pathetic excuse of a man sitting before him.

“Have you really been true to your oath when you bitch and moan at my every order. Loyalty is the flesh and blood of that oath. Loyalty. Can’t be a faithful brother of the night’s watch and follow your own path, boy.”

The rift of fury within him splits deeper with each condescending use of the word _boy_ Morgan spits out.  Zoro remains steady and resolute, rage filling those cracks and threatening to seep over.  Curiously, he finds his mind wandering back to Sanji and the uncompromising resolve to do what he feels is right.  It resonates within him, knowing he’s always done the same while still trying to navigate the pledge he made to the night’s watch.  His seams are splitting as he begins to truly grasp his situation. “I do what is right.”

“I tell you what is or isn’t right. If you take me to Castle Black, you will be made a hero, I’ll be sure of it. That is what’s right,” Morgan promises with a menacing tone, eyes not leaving Zoro’s. “But you must never disobey me or any Lord Commander. We decide your fate.”

Zoro takes a calming breath as the quiet voice of his intuition whispers to him, gripping him with turmoil on what path to choose.  His fingers itch to hold his blade, needing to deliver justice to the traitor before him but he finds he’s frozen in his place. It’s as though even the tiniest of movement will determine his course of action, the oath he chooses to uphold.  One to the night’s watch or the other to himself.

“You’re just one man,” he scoffs, tone dripping in disgust.  “My oath is not to you.”

Morgan guffaws, mocking Zoro. “How do you think one becomes a Lord Commander of the night’s watch, boy? You think they pick the runt of the litter? You think you’ll find a leader anywhere on the wall who’s soft? We can have no mercy for the northern savages. Your oath makes you a servant to the wall, to _us_ , to keep those wildling cunts in that freezing hell where they belong.” A dangerous glare under hooded eyes and a low grumble, “Do not defy me.”

Zoro feels ensnared by his honour’s treacherous entanglement with an establishment that boasts several men reflective of the scum before him.  His mind clears of that ever-present chant and he can see it all with an alarming realisation. To uphold that mantra is to lose the integrity he’s worked so hard to sustain.  Heart beating heavily in his chest, his thoughts fade back to his entire motivation to seek out the wall and begin life there. An obligation that was quickly met leaving him stranded now amongst men who are no more than savages themselves.  A somber truth dawns on him. That person would not want to see him in this position, losing himself to empty words and oaths with no bearing on his virtue.

The pregnant pause between them is fierce. Finally, Morgan sneers and chuckles ominously. “Cat got your tongue, Wildling Slayer?” he says. “You stand here, calling me a deserter when you too should have died with your brothers. Why should I not consider you a deserter here and now?”

“It was beyond my control.”  Zoro easily slides off the straps holding his sword to his back as he starts to succumb to the desire.

Morgan’s eyes dart to Zoro’s staunch grip on the hilt of his greatsword. “And how is it you ended up here, alive and well south of the wall when you were in death’s grip during the attack?”

The familiar feeling of his sword soothes him as Zoro holds it tight, cold glare still fixed on Morgan.  “Doesn’t matter. Didn’t ride off forsaking my men. Like you.”

Apparently not listening to Zoro’s explanation, Morgan continues on with his demeaning chastisations, a lightbulb seeming to go off in his head with a grin. “You let that maester’s little twat drag you off. Dishonourable.”

A sadistic grin paints Zoro’s features as he unsheathes his greatsword, tossing the scabbard away and clenching the blade dangerously.  It’s unmistakable what he must do now, what settles as moral in the pit of his gut. He should’ve known back in the cottage what was honourable.  It felt right the whole time.

“So the _steward’s_ the deserter,” Morgan says, putting two and two together based on Zoro’s reaction, prodding until the very end. He eyes the sword’s bare steel with only a hint of panic manifesting as more derisive jabs. “What now, boy? Are you going to kill me? Your own Lord Commander? You’d mark yourself the lowest kind of traitor and throw away your integrity as a man of the night’s watch for that worthless miserable cunt --”

The strong swing of Harmony cuts through the air, Valyrian steel glimmering in the sun cascading through the treetops.  It only takes a single slice to sever the man’s head entirely from his torso. Zoro watches unflinchingly at it rolls away, the frightened eyes now cold and dead.  He remains motionless as the crimson droplets of blood run down the sword. Another flick and he’s cut the rope of the horse tied to the tree close by, her panicked neighing fading as she runs into the distance.  His gaze shifts back to the face of his Lord Commander -- a man he used to call his leader.

“Our watch has ended.”

With a heavy sigh, Zoro lowers his sword to clean its blade on the black cloak still crumpled to the ground.  Once Harmony is returned to her rightful position, he takes his leave, letting his instincts guide him back where he belongs.  Hopefully he isn’t too late.

It’s just around sundown as Sanji is collecting wood from the stone wall of the cottage when he hears something from the woods. A twig snapping. And now that he’s listening, footsteps. His bow is inside, but he feels like he’ll make himself known if the door creaks open, or if he moves from his spot. He has to risk some movement for good cover until he can assess the situation. One fluid shift and he’s crouched behind the cottage wall, firmly gripping the hilt of his shortsword strapped around his waist as he directs his gaze in the direction of the footsteps, heart thumping in his ears.

With the small amount of sunlight left, Sanji squints and is able to make out a broad form emerge from the forest. There’s a glint of dark green hair in the weakening rays showering through the canopy. He frowns, shocked, heart beating faster. It can’t be. When he sees the silhouette of a hulking greatsword at the man’s back, Sanji stands, convinced. He tentatively reveals himself from his hiding spot, trusting that this isn’t a trap when he knows it’s Zoro standing before him now.

“Why are you back?” Sanji asks, searching his face for an answer.

Zoro stops before Sanji and gives him a nonchalant shrug.  “Doing the right thing.” He notices the pile of firewood near the man’s feet and moves to pick it up, nodding towards the cottage.  “Let’s go in.”

Dumbfounded, Sanji moves on impulse to get the door for Zoro, letting him shuffle inside with the wood. When the door is closed behind them, Zoro places the wood down by the fireplace as Sanji asks, “What do you mean, the right thing? What of your oath?”

Zoro benevolently removes the greatsword from his back and leans it against the wall where it rested all those days before.  Twisting to Sanji’s searching gaze, he meets it head on with an intense stare of his own. “My honour is no longer bound to those words.”

At that disclosure, Sanji inspects the man before him. No longer bound, he said. Something’s changed in his stance, in his eyes. Like he’s a free man. Sanji inquires, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

Sanji sighs, shaking his head and strutting over to the fireplace to pile up twigs for kindling. He doubts Zoro will relinquish that information, his lacking answer is telling enough. “Well, I’m leaving tomorrow. You can stay here tonight. But where do you intend to go if not Castle Black?”

Something he thought of on his journey back to the cabin, Zoro is well aware that he cannot stay put in the North.  As a defector of the watch, he is committing treason and would be put to death if found. “South.” He responds earnestly.  “Or East.” Pausing a moment, the corners of his mouth curve down slightly. “Might leave Westeros.”

“So we’re both deserters then, looking to leave Westeros,” Sanji notes pensively, eyes focused as he structures the kindling and wood, grabbing his flint to light it up and stave off the chill. He has the same intentions as Zoro. “Are you suggesting we travel together?”

Zoro lowers himself to the wooden stool tucked in the corner, running a hand over the back of his neck.  He wasn’t sure if he would travel with Sanji, not knowing if the man prefers to wander alone in his goal to see the world.  But there was nothing left for him here and no attachments to anyone he felt he could return to. The wall was the only thing he had.  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and answers in a low voice, “If you’ll have me.”

Sanji halts his efforts on the fire and looks back to the man, brow raised at his blithe delivery. “You’re a real piece of work,” he sighs, closing his eyes a moment. “It will be dangerous travelling with me, you know. A Targaryen bastard in the north while the Starks and their bannermen rebel against the Mad King.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Zoro counters as he fixes his eyes to his sword.  Harmony’s all he really needs, the only thing he could lose. “Traitor to the watch now.”  He sits back in his seat and turns to Sanji. “Could die anytime.”

Sanji smirks. So they really are in the same boat. Seems like Zoro’s mad enough to want to travel with him despite the dangers. He can’t say he didn’t warn him, and it would increase his own chances of survival an awful lot. Not to mention the company would be nice. They both have nothing to lose. Sanji grins.

“I should keep an eye on your wound anyway. Knowing you, you’ll find some way to fuck it up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may not be familiar with this world or the series -- at this moment in time, the Targaryens are ruling the Seven Kingdoms which is the “nation” or continent of Westeros. Their king, Aerys II Targaryen is also known as the Mad King. He has this reputation for having gone crazy over time and participating in unspeakable acts against well known families (called ‘Houses’) in the kingdoms. 
> 
> Robert Baratheon -- who is the king at the beginning of the Game of Thrones series present timeline -- is actively leading a rebellion referred to as ‘Robert’s Rebellion.’ His cause is to defeat the Mad King and take down House Targaryen due to reasons we will explain later. Zoro references dragons being associated with the Targaryens and that is because they are the only house currently known to have been able to live with and control them. If you’re familiar at all with the series in passing, this is directly aligned with Daenerys “Khaleesi” Targaryen. They are of Valyrian race -- their features typically include platinum, silver, or gold hair, purple or blue eyes, and pale skin. Sound familiar?
> 
> Zoro’s sword Harmony is of Valyrian steel which is an ancient form of metal forging that came from Valyria, where the Targaryens and other families originate from. The metal is recognized to be lightweight, of high strength and resistance, and incredibly sharp boasting them to be well sought after weapons. They are rare to encounter, usually passed down as family heirlooms. The nature of their craftsmanship is mystical and it is a lost practice an event called the Doom of Valyria.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

_iv._

 

Scanning the cottage over meticulously, Sanji tightens the leather straps on his bag, tying them together with confidence that he has everything he needs for their journey. He slings it over his shoulder, then his quiver and bow and steps outside into the dazzling sun rays of dawn. His hand is on the hilt of his shortsword, confirming its presence at his hip. Zoro is waiting at the cusp of the forest, staring past the tall trunks, eyes presumably scanning for any sign of threat.

“Where we headed?” Zoro asks as he tugs at the leather straps across his chest, shifting the weight of his sword.  

“The Fingers,” Sanji reveals, stepping up beside Zoro. “While you were healing, I found a note Zeph left for me in my satchel. He told me find a castle west of Pebble with a hawk sigil, that the lord there can help grant us passage to Essos.”

“Pebble?” Zoro inquires further, revealing how little knowledge he has of the Seven Kingdoms.  He could rattle off several landmarks beyond the wall -- Hardhome, The Haunted Forest, Storrold’s Point.  But his own land of Westeros is a different matter entirely. He was never in a position to learn about its vastness.

“It’s an island just north of the Fingers,” Sanji shuffles around in his bag, unravelling the large sketched map and pointing the island out to Zoro. He drags his finger diagonally, tapping at the smallest protruding landmass southwest of the island. “He told me here in the letter. The castle is on this coast.”

Zoro nods with understanding as his eyes scour the map.  He spots the locations he’s familiar with, mostly in the north.  Winterfell, Last Hearth, Long Lake, Wolfswood. Everything else is new to him.

Sanji slides his finger to their position near Queenscrown and drags it across mountain terrain to their south. “We’re going to travel through here, cross the King’s Road through this forest and head south along the east side of Long Lake. We should avoid the King’s Road as much as we can, so crossing it through this forest is our safest route.”

“Got it.”  Zoro lifts his gaze and examines the area, turning his head slowly in every direction.  Fixing his stare forward with a deep breath, he starts off towards their path, leaving the cottage and Sanji behind.  “Let’s go.”

Sanji gawks at Zoro as he heads off in the completely opposite direction. “That’s north, you oaf.” There’s a pregnant pause as Sanji considers Zoro’s wanderings the previous day. “How in seven hells did you manage to find your way back here?”

Stopping cold in his tracks, Zoro twists on his heel and glares at Sanji boldly.  “Knew what I was doing,” he grumbles as he storms in the opposite direction, passing the man grinning at him without second glance.  He calls back over his shoulder, “C’mon.”

“The gods have surely blessed you,” Sanji snarks, shaking his head as he follows behind, keeping in mind to always be in charge of navigating their travels.

“Piss off, blondie.”

Trudging forward, Zoro spares Sanji a sidelong look as the man catches up to his side, stepping into pace.  They are silent a few moments as they enter the thicket, their black boots crunching the leaves and bramble underfoot.  He mulls in his thoughts briefly before questioning in a low tone, “You trust this lord will help?”

Sanji smiles softly. His answer is swift and heartfelt with a hint of sorrow. “I trust Zeph with my life. He would never lead me astray.”

“He was always good to me,” Zoro agrees quietly with the only sentiment he knew of the man.  The maester always managed to heal him back to top shape no matter how gruff his chastising could be.  After a short lull, he continues, “Wildling attacks are savage. Was it quick?”

Sanji clenches his jaw, clutching the strap of his satchel closer to his chest. “Arrow to the head. I killed the bastard.” He releases a repressed breath. “Just wish I could have done something to save him. I told him about the dream. He believed me, wanted me to leave but refused to come with me.”

Zoro kicks a stick in his way as he listens to Sanji’s explanation, a newfound respect forming for the old man.  “That’s the path he chose,” he asserts solemnly, turning his head to face Sanji. “A man of honour.”

Sanji stares straight ahead, hopeful of the new path Zeph has paved for him. “He was,” he says tenderly. “I’ll always be thankful for everything he did for me.”

A silence hangs between them as they continue their route, exiting the small forest and soon navigating rocky tundra.  Zoro knows if he is going to travel with the man at his side for any amount of time, he needs to learn his skills, something important to survival.  He trusts Sanji with medical knowledge, but the life of the steward is a mystery to him, having mostly been on the other side of the wall. Running a hand across his chest, his fingers ghost the ridges of a scar forming under his clothes as he asks casually, “What’s it like, a steward? Beyond the piss and shit.”

Intrigued by Zoro’s interest, Sanji turns to him with a hum. No one at Icemark had ever been curious about his stewardly duties, the ungrateful louts merely depended on him to fill their stomachs, clean up after them and keep them warm with the clothes on their back and firewood. It wasn’t a position that garnered appreciation in the slightest despite its inherent merit. But he always considered it of utmost importance, saw the results of his work from the watchmen teeming with energy day after day.

“It’s hard work,” Sanji says honestly. “Hard but rewarding, at least for me. Gathered lots of skills from it. Hunting, cooking, healing, farming, you name it.” Stepping over a rather large boulder, Sanji continues. “My favourite part was cooking. Always had a knack for that.” He pauses, looking to Zoro who’s staring ahead. “I’m sure being a ranger was hard. They always make it sound glorious but I’ve seen enough wounded rangers to think otherwise. Is that what you wanted to be when you arrived at Icemark?”

A pensive smile forms on Zoro’s lips at the question.  “The only thing I could be,” he responds with a fading memory replaying in his mind.  “Not for glory though.”

“Oh really?” Sanji says with a provoking grin. “You never imagined a life for yourself cleaning up piss and shit?”

Zoro lets out an amused snort.  “Don’t think so,” he replies honestly with a smirk.  “But it’s not beneath me.” He lifts an arm to scratch the back of his head.  “Just needed to see north of the wall.”

“North of the wall?” Sanji says with curiosity, simultaneously appreciating Zoro’s humble acknowledgement of certain tasks he’d been subjected to. “Ah, so you were one of those. Thought so. Saw you arrive at Icemark from Winterfell. Looked the type vying for adventures and combat beyond the wall.”

Exhaling an agitated sigh, Zoro shakes his head.  “Not like that,” he counters sternly, looping his thumbs under the straps on his chest.  While he enjoys combat and the thrill of a battle, he didn’t head north with the purpose of becoming the wildling slayer or any of those other names that became his reputation.  He doesn’t like to fight for those kinds of reasons. His intentions were deeper, rooted in his past. His attention is caught as he comprehends Sanji’s words. “Knew where I’m from?”

Sanji nods, interest steadily on the rise as he gathers more hints against Zoro’s fierce reputation. “Zeph called you the young pup from Winterfell. Had enough people talking about it too.” A short pause as he takes a refreshing swig from his water pouch, handing it to Zoro who accepts it. “What’s it like in Winterfell?” Sanji inquires, wide eyes glistening in wonder.

Zoro wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he corks and tosses the soft flask to Sanji.  “Cold,” he says with a shrug. “Nothing exciting. The Starks are good people, always treated the commoners well.”

Accepting the pouch, Sanji places it inside his bag, asking, “You were born there?”

“No, came there when I was young.  A blacksmith took me into his care, taught me his trade.”

“So you can smith?” Sanji hums. “I remember you were already adept with your sword when you arrived. Did he teach you?”

“I can.”  Zoro smiles at the memory of his time in Winterfell.  “He taught me the basics. Mostly practiced with a friend -- his daughter.  She was older. Better. Learned a lot from her.”

A sly grin plays upon Sanji’s features. “A young love sonnet in the works?”

Zoro’s expression falters to an incredulous look as he presses a hand to Sanji’s stupid grinning face and shoves him away with a stiff arm.  “No.”

Laughing, Sanji stumbles back onto the beaten path to Zoro’s side. “Come now, don’t be so modest.”

“She was like a sister,” Zoro explains with disgust at Sanji’s prodding.  He had never thought of Kiuna in that way. “We were close. Raised together under the same roof.”

“I see,” Sanji says, grin fading as he takes in the information. He changes the topic to something he’s always wanted to know. “Your sword, Harmony. It’s Valyrian steel. How did you obtain it?”

Zoro lifts a hand to pat the hilt over his shoulder with fondness.  “Her father. My master. He gave it to me when I set off north. A family heirloom of his lineage of smiths.”  He trails off, his affectionate smile falling to a somber grimace. “Said he had no one else to carry it on.”

“Couldn’t give it to his daughter, I suppose. Wouldn’t be customary,” Sanji assumes.

“He would have,” Zoro corrects as he crosses his arms, shifting his burden comfortably.  “She died.”

Sanji frowns, expression tender. “I’m sorry.”

Zoro simply shrugs.  “It’s life.” His words are harsh but true.  Death was a fact he learned to accept at a young age.  He motions to Harmony. “It’s her sword. Think he knew me taking it to the wall would be the only way to meet her goals.”

“Her goals?”

“She dreamt of seeing north of the wall.  Don’t know why, damn thing always fascinated her.”

Sanji’s mouth parts with the insane revelation, staring at Zoro in surprise. The man at his side continues to dodge and weave every possible expectation. It’s incredibly captivating. “You took the black and gave up your life for her?” Sanji shakes his head, hand to his hair in befuddlement. “Tell me again you weren’t in love with her.”

“Not my type,” Zoro deadpans with a glare.  “Promised her I would. Women aren’t allowed to take the black, as you know.  Had nothing else to do with my life.”

Storing the mystery of Zoro’s preferences in the back of his mind, Sanji comments warmly, “That’s truly honourable.”

Zoro nods, unable to keep the grin off his face at Sanji’s recognition of his honour.  As they travel onward, he shifts his hands to the leather straps of his scabbard again, missing the feeling of a sword bumping against his hip, a place to rest his hand.  He normally wields a second, smaller blade. More agile and practical. He saves Harmony for true battles, as she is heavier and slower to draw.

“Need another sword,” he comments aloud.  When he catches sight of Sanji’s confusion, he explains further.  “Lost my longsword up north.” He points to his chest. “When I got this.”

Sanji purses his lips in thought. “Zeph left me some gold as well as that note. I wanted to stretch it as far as possible. Is it important to you?”

“Important to our lives.”  Not wanting to be a burden or indebted further, he quickly waves his hand dismissively.  “I’ll sort it out.”

Sanji smirks at his self-reliance. “We’ll see what we can do.”

They fall into silence again as the rocky terrain becomes more treacherous for a little while, large boulders and loose rocks to navigate.  They are lucky to have each other, Sanji quickly grabbing his hand in a moment when Zoro slips on loose gravel. Zoro having to pull Sanji up while scaling a rocky cliffside that is particularly steep.  Sweat dripping from their brows, they sit for a moment to allow the cold northern winds to cool them off from exertion.

Zoro keeps his eyes steady on Sanji as they sit together, the other man seemingly oblivious as he busies himself digging through his pouch to locate the map.  As he bows over the scroll, he uses thin fingers to brush the light golden hair hanging in his face and Zoro is pulled from his admiring, noticing a mark over his other eye.

“What’s that?”

Puzzled, Sanji peers at Zoro, unsure of what he means as the man stares blankly at him. “What?”

Zoro leans forward and gruffly moves the blond strands away to reveal the marking again, studying the swirl intensely.   “Your eyebrow.”

Heart shivering from the touch, Sanji brings his fingers to his left brow, so utterly lost in his comfort with the man that he’d forgotten about his tattoo. He doesn’t fix his hair, allowing Zoro to view the white marking in all its entirety.

“My mother gave me this mark before I was sent to the wall.”

Zoro narrows his eyes, scrutinizing the mark with fascination.  “What’s its meaning?”

Sanji tucks his hair behind his ear. “I’m a bastard Targaryen on my father’s side. But my mother was from House Velaryon.”

“House Valyrian?”

“ _Velaryon,_ ” Sanji corrects. “They’re a seafaring house from Driftmark, close to Dragonstone. Their sigil is a seahorse. Hence my mark. My mother gave it to me so I would never forget where I came from when she sent me off with Zeph to the wall.”

Zoro leans back, resting his forearms on his thighs.  “A seahorse,” he comments with an amused smirk. He weighs the information in his mind, sorting Sanji out.  “Zeph? Were you related?”

“He was my great uncle,” Sanji explains. “He was also a Velaryon. Became a maester at the Citadel, the family forced it on him to keep him in line.” He smirks, laughing. “But even after that he took to the seas, a trueborn Velaryon. Became a pirate. I heard all the tales from him.” Sanji’s expression grows somber. “By the time he returned to Driftmark, they had arranged for him to go up to the wall and live out his days as a maester there in penance. They didn’t want the stain on their name.”

As he listens to Sanji detailing Zeph’s role at the wall, Zoro keeps his gaze on his expressive face, watching every emotion cascade across his features.  Pieces of the man’s history had already slipped into their prior conversations. He knew Sanji went to the wall very young and, from the sounds of it, he was sent there with intent.  Not normally one to pry, Zoro finds himself captivated with wanting to know more, unable to refrain from questioning further. “Why were you sent away?”

Keeping his eyes locked on the stunning scenery below them, Sanji clasps his hands together, elbows on his thighs as he prepares to reveal his deepest secret. “I’m a bastard son of the King.”

Zoro raises his eyebrows at the admission.  He crosses his arms, tilting his head thoughtfully.  The information is certainly unexpected.

Noticing Zoro’s silent response juxtaposed with imploring eyes, Sanji discloses further. “Years after I was born, my father decided he wanted to be rid of any bastard children he’d fathered in the past. My mother was sick from an illness at the time and the Velaryons have close relations with the Targaryens -- they would have handed me over rather than tarnish their bonds. I was still very young and she was worried I wouldn’t have anyone to protect me once she passed. So she sent for Zeph to take me to the wall.”

So the Mad King is as crazy as the rumours.  Zoro mulls over Sanji’s story. His comments before they agreed to travel together make sense now -- he’d be hunted by both the king and the rebellion, which Zoro only knew faintly of.  Curiosity piqued, he wonders out loud, “What do they call bastards from Driftmark?”

Sanji loosens his hands apart and turns to gaze at Zoro with a small smile. “They call them Waters in the Crownlands. My name was Sanjys Waters. I gave that up when I took the black.” He laughs lightly. “Who wants a bastard name anyway?”

Zoro returns the smile with a grin of his own.  “Try Zoranoros.”

Brows furrowing over the tongue-twisting name that Zoro is claiming to be his own, Sanji questions, “Where in Westeros would someone name a child that?”

“Nowhere,” Zoro says with a low chuckle.  “Don’t know much about my time before Winterfell but remember some.  Came here on a boat with only my name.” He shrugs. “People fucked it up so I shortened it.”

“A boat, you say?” Sanji says with amusement. “Probably came over from Essos. Could only expect a shade of hair that peculiar to come from there, grass head.”

“Fuck off.”  Zoro kicks at Sanji’s foot but he still has a grin plastered to his face.  An amicable silence settles between them and Zoro finds his eyes once again glued to the swirling mark over the man’s eyebrow.  Reaching forward once more, he traces the swirl with his thumb, his gaze lowering to wide eyes staring back at him. He smirks. A seafaring house.  The knowledge makes their sea blue colour even more prominent to him. “Strange,” he contends, his thumb still following the white mark. “But pretty.”  A pause. “Like you.”

Sucking in a spine-tingling breath, it takes a painstaking amount of time to tear his eyes away from Zoro’s magnetising gaze and touch. Feeling the heat rising to his face, he ruffles his hair to hide it. Sanji stands, unsure of how to react to what has to be a whimsical joke, slinging his satchel between his shoulders. He pulls them back to the task at hand, finally laying his eyes on Zoro again. “We should keep to it. It’ll be dark soon, we need to find a place to camp.”

 

* * *

 

It takes them about a week to make it out of the rocky terrain and into a wooded area which has flatter land, a welcomed reprieve for their weary feet. Travelling through the rugged landscape had been challenging but worth it to remain unseen. They have no incidents or encounters whatsoever. Over the span of their time together, their companionship becomes more and more relaxed for them both, spending much of their time either in comfortable silence or easygoing jest.

It’s the seventh day when they reach the King’s Road through the forest. Sanji is tentatively peeking beyond the foliage to scope out the dirt path. He hears hooves thundering in the distance. Holding a hand to Zoro’s chest who’s about to stumble out like a lost bear, Sanji turns to him, their faces close in the brush as they crouch.

Sanji nods ahead, gesturing to the noise as he shifts his palm atop Zoro’s shoulder. “Wait. Listen.”

Zoro pauses, tuning his ear to the faint sound in the distance.  Seems far enough away for them to be able to cross in time but Sanji must be acting cautiously.  Given the frequent use of the King’s Road, it’s hard to say whether anyone who may cross their paths will be friend or foe.  He glances at the hand on his shoulder and then gives Sanji a questioning look. “We wait?”

“Yes we wait,” Sanji whispers sharply, finger raised to his lips. “Not taking any chances. So shh.”

They rest silently, eyes turned in the direction of the hooves as they draw nearer.  A few minutes later, Zoro spots two horses in the distance, their riders’ black cloaks billowing behind them.  Night’s watchmen. He inhales sharply, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Sanji.

Grimacing in alarm Sanji keeps his hand over Zoro’s shoulder, waiting for the noise of the horses to fade completely before he settles it upon his own lap. “Night’s watchmen,” he says quietly, gratified by Zoro’s confirming gaze.

Eyes trailing where the dust has long since settled, Zoro frowns at the now empty road.  Dangers lurk everywhere, even in the most subtle ways. They have more to look out for than just the northern bannerman or enemies from the south.  If any member of the night’s watch recognizes them to be defectors, they can be killed for treason. He pats Sanji on the back as he stands, signaling they should take advantage of the quiet to cross the road.

Lingering for a moment in the thick, Sanji slowly stands as he watches Zoro walk over the path confidently. Pulling up the hood of his cloak, he briskly follows his lead with a half-grin, passing through the King’s Road in the blink of an eye.

Stopping and placing his hands on his hips, Zoro takes in the scenery around them.  Through the forest, he spies more mountainous terrain in the distance. Donning a cocky grin, he sets off on the next part of their journey.  They should never have to cross the King’s Road again.

Sanji quickly strides up to Zoro, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Not this way,” he says when Zoro turns to look at him quizzically. Sanji sighs deeply, rubbing his brow as he stomps off in the correct direction. “Just let me lead. You’re impossible.”

“Shut up, seahorse,” Zoro grumbles as he begrudgingly falls in line next to the man as they set off deeper in the woods.  They bicker and taunt one another, lightly shoving each other into bramble and trees until Sanji delivers a particularly painful kick to Zoro’s shin.  

“That’s it!” Zoro snarls with a feral growl and leaps towards the man, ensnaring the front of his cloak in two fists.  Sanji tries to tug out of his grip but Zoro keeps his hold firm as he twists on his heel and slams the thin frame against a nearby tree.  Their chests heaving from the little scuffle, Zoro glares at him with a impish gleam in his eye. “Evil little bastard.”

Still squirming and huffing in the fierce grip, Sanji’s entire body is on fire. He smirks devilishly, keeping his eyes on Zoro’s teasing stare as he digs, “And? What will you do?”

Leaning in closer, their faces breadths apart, Zoro delivers one final smoldering glare.  “Just you wait, blondie.” He leans back, releasing the fabric and lifting a hand to Harmony’s hilt.  “Going to slice you up in your sleep.”

Patting his shirt flat, Sanji hums, his eyes playfully contentious. “Was that a threat? Just when I thought we were getting along so well,” he jokes, voice buttery smooth.

Zoro rolls his eyes, setting off again along their course, trampling underbrush as they continue forward.  They walk in silence, their rapid pace from the previous days wearing down on them as they’ve had little chance to fully rest.  Crossing the King’s Road has weighed heavily on both of their minds. Now that they’ve done so, Zoro can feel the exhaustion coursing through him.  He knows from experience that they need to take a break, otherwise their bodies won’t survive the journey.

Hours later, they reach the end of the forest overlooking a clearing of land. They scan over the new area scrupulously, seeing the large horizon of a lake to their right sparkling in the lowering sun. To their left, there are rugged hills and cliffs in the distance with what appears to be a white plume rising from their depths.

“That must be Long Lake,” Sanji informs, pointing to the body of water. Then he gestures to the hilltops. “Smoke?”

Picking up Sanji’s reference to Long Lake, Zoro scans the cliffside.  “Hot springs up there,” he explains, motioning to the steam. “Hard to reach from what I’ve heard.”  He rubs his aching shoulder muscles, turning to Sanji with a devious grin. “Should try to find them.”

Sanji nods in agreement, smiling wide. “Be worth it. I’m dying for a bath.” They hadn’t bathed properly since Icemark. Just some splashes on their grimy skin and hair when they’d passed by a river. It had been too cold to properly bathe in and the same would go for the lake before them, he already knew. Hot springs would be ideal and it would be Sanji’s first time to experience the natural phenomenon.

Zoro studies the distance between where they stand and the steam.  They should gather their energy before trying to scale up the rocky walls.  “We should rest tonight,” he says idly, tugging off the leather straps of Harmony’s scabbard and lowering her off his back.  “Let’s try in the morning.”

Sanji’s lips firm in compliance, happy to have a goal for tomorrow that will actually reward them. He nods behind him, waving Zoro over. “Let’s set up camp in the woods. If you spot a critter, point it out to me. That ridiculous greatsword won’t do you much good hunting,” he instructs, gripping the limb of the bow on his back confidently. Been a couple days since they had a proper meal.

Zoro raises an eyebrow.  A challenge.

As sunset fades to night, Zoro smugly sits by the fire and watches Sanji begrudgingly pluck the feathers out of a fat bird he’d managed to snag from a nest in the brush.  Didn’t even need the greatsword. They remain silent throughout the process, Zoro closing his eyes and dozing as he listens to the sounds of Sanji skewering the fowl and roasting it on the fire.  He awakes when he feels Sanji pressing his meal to his hands.

Blinking back sleep, he studies the food for a second before taking a greedy bite.  Groaning with satisfaction at finally having a hearty meal, he comments to Sanji, “It’s good.”

Sanji takes the compliment humbly with a mellow smile, sitting beside Zoro, his own meal in his hands. “You can thank Zeph for that. He taught me everything I know.”

Ever since their talk about Zeph’s death many days ago, Sanji has felt more at peace with what happened at the wall. The fact that someone with as much integrity as Zoro sees his mentor’s death as honourable means that Sanji should accept it as such too. He refuses to blame himself when Zeph’s final wish was for him to live his life the way he was always meant to. He’d already known Zeph intended to keep his post at the wall until his dying breath, it just happened sooner than he would have liked. But the same could be said for his mother, or Zoro's childhood friend. Death is a part of life.

Zoro stares into the fire as he eats his supper, tossing his clean bones into the flames.   The dancing red and orange embers remind him of his last night in Icemark, their castle burning to the ground.  “Think anyone survived?” he asks suddenly as he finishes his last bite, dangling the bone in his hand. “Icemark.”

Sanji pauses his hand as he raises it to take a bite, pondering over Zoro’s question. “If so, not many. Last I saw, the whole castle was up in flames. I’m not even sure how the wildlings expected to escape, if they did. Crazy bastards.” He pauses, remembering Morgan’s cowardly escape. He scoffs, responding bitterly, “Besides us, the Lord Commander is probably the only survivor.”

“He didn’t survive.”

Sanji stares at Zoro, bewildered. “How do you know?”

Keeping his gaze fixed on the flames, Zoro remains quiet for a second, mulling over what Sanji’s reaction may be.  Having decided he’d rather keep no secrets, as his life is now entwined with the man next to him during their brief travels, he flatly explains.  “Killed him. In the forest.”

Examining Zoro quietly, Sanji is still as he takes in the confession. He then stares into the crackling fire before them, watching the dancing flames in contemplation. “So that’s what happened,” he finally addresses. “He was a deserter in the end. So you killed him?”

Zoro simply nods.

“You said your honour was no longer bound to your oath. Was it really that simple?”

Twisting his head towards Sanji, Zoro stares past his shoulder to the shadows dancing in the firelight across the trees.  He stays silent for a moment before shifting his gaze to connect their eyes. “It was,” he answers as a smile forms on his lips.  “Don’t regret it. Survived that wound, the attack. Now I’m going to do what I want.”

Piqued, Sanji turns to his meal once more, grinning. “Fair enough.”

 

* * *

 

“Watch it, stupid seahorse!”  Zoro glares up to where Sanji is climbing above him, having just been hit in the head with a particularly heavy rock that came loose from under the man’s feet.

Sanji looks over his shoulder to the man below him, grinning impishly. “Foot slipped. Maybe if you weren’t so slow it wouldn’t be a problem. Keep up, grass head.”

Zoro stretches to swipe at Sanji’s dangling foot but he pulls himself onto the next ledge before his hand can reach.  Clambering up behind, Zoro hauls himself onto the temporary flat surface and stands, wiping sweat from his brow. He glances around, the lake now quite a fall between them.  The steam clouds billow around them, signaling they’re close to their destination.

“Got extra weight,” Zoro counters as he adjusts the bundle Sanji fastened to his back.  He used his cloak as a makeshift pouch to carry up firewood, a couple critters they hunted, and some fowl in preparation to make camp near the springs.  With the cliffy terrain of the mountainside and the scarce areas of flat surface, he’s starting to think it may have all been in vain.

They sit down tenderly atop the ledge, bodies utterly exhausted from half a day’s worth of hiking and climbing. After some water and a light snack to rejuvenate their spirits, they continue their hike, having to deal with a particularly narrow ledgeway near the top but thankfully it seems they’re approaching their destination. Their bodies are shivering in excitement at the prospect of a hot steamy bath as it gets into late afternoon.

As they round their final corner, Zoro breathes a heavy sigh of relief when they see a wide ledge up ahead near a ridge shelved with numerous steaming pools.  He and Sanji share an enthusiastic glance before racing to the area with triumph. Finding the spot perfect to set up camp, he pauses and examines the area for any other signs of life.  It was a difficult trek to make it up this far, hopefully it deters other travelers from being swayed from their journeys. He’s comforted to find there’s no one else and they have a vantage point in spotting anyone who may sneak up from any direction.

They unravel from all of their cumbersome things and drop them to the ground. Then they waste no time unfastening every buckle, knot and button, stripping out of their clothing and rushing their bare forms to the steaming water in a flurry. The only objects brought with them are a clump of soap and a straight razor Sanji digs out from his satchel. Unburdened with this task, Zoro makes it to the water first, Sanji eying his powerful body as he sinks down, arms steadying him on the rocky edge. Choosing to bathe in the same natural pool as Zoro, Sanji immediately jumps inside, moaning as his skin hits the hot water and he sits down. His muscles melt and the filth on his skin dispels while he slicks water into his hair and begins rubbing his arms with the soap.

Zoro groans loudly as he sinks further into the sweltering water, the aching tension in his muscles vanishing instantly.  He lowers himself so he is neck deep, giving his shoulders a reprieve after days of carrying Harmony. Despite being lightweight with Valyrian steel, the blade’s still a tiresome burden.  Opening his eyes as he enjoys the small reprieve, he’s met with a view of Sanji washing himself across the water from him. His gaze follows the man’s hands as he scrubs his pale skin, completely entranced by the sight.

Feeling Zoro’s heavy stare on him, Sanji folds his long legs to his chest and offers a fleeting glance. After he’s finished with the soap, he looks back to Zoro’s ever present eyes, waving the waxy clump at him before lobbing it over to his companion. The man snatches it effortlessly, eyes never leaving him with the motion, sending a pleasant shiver down Sanji’s spine.

Finally tearing his stare from Sanji’s body, Zoro starts to scour his own skin with the soap, scrubbing away the dirt and grime built up from their travelling across the countryside.  As he runs the suds through his hair, he frowns as he feels how long it’s getting. Bothers him during battle, he prefers to keep it cut short. Most of his washing done, he draws a hand over his shoulder to try to scrub the expanse of his back, the place he has most difficulty reaching.  

As Zoro washes himself across from him, Sanji uses the suds remaining in his hair to lather the developing scruff on his face.  He picks up the razor settled on the rocks behind him and begins skillfully shaving weeks of runaway facial hair. By the time his face is rinsed and smooth, he catches Zoro’s strain with washing his back. The razor still in his grip, Sanji smiles in amusement, figuring he could use some help with that. A shave and a trim would do the man good, too.

“Here. Let me,” Sanji expresses gently, sloshing water between them as he shifts over to the man, placing the razor on a flat surface in arm’s reach.

Zoro pauses in his efforts and eyes Sanji, raising an eyebrow.  He silently accepts the offer, handing the sliver of wax to him and shifting to expose his back.  As deft hands begin scouring his skin, he impulsively leans forward, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling.  

Washing his back should be a quick task, but Sanji finds himself in a daze smoothing his hands over sturdy shoulder blades and relishing in the bulging grooves of his muscles. He lathers Zoro’s hair and jaw, massaging briefly before picking the razor back up and shifting around to face him. Their eyes on each other are intense and charged as Sanji gently shears the scruff from his face, fingertips ghosting on his strong jawline.

Once Sanji has finished the task of shaving his scruff and cropping his hair, Zoro is distracted from his focus on the handsome face in front of him by the setting sun.  “Need to make camp,” he says wistfully as he shifts to climb out of the spring. “Dusk is coming.”

Fingers smoothing over his own newly shaven face, Sanji flits his gaze to Zoro’s naked form exiting the hot spring, eyes concentrating on his discernable erection as the man shifts to pick up his pants. Hand still gripping the razor, Sanji picks up the soap, wading out of the water with a smirk and notable colour to his cheeks.

After tugging on his pants, choosing to stay shirtless for the time being, Zoro moves to prepare their haul of lumber for the night’s fire.  He notices Sanji step into the cool air out of the corner of his eye, taking in the man’s limber form with interest. Within minutes, a small pile of wood and kindling is prepared and he crosses to pick up Sanji’s satchel in hopes to find the flint and starter.

“The fuck is in here?” he asks gruffly as he hoists the bag, heavier than he expected.

Sanji throws his linen shirt over his head and tugs his arms through, responding, “Everything we need. What, too heavy for you, grassy?”

Zoro hands the satchel to its owner, gesturing to the fire in silent explanation.  “That’s my line, corkscrew.”

Sanji gawks at the insult, stumbling slightly as he attempts to grab the bag and pull on his pants at the same time. “Corkscrew?”

Zoro taps his own eyebrow as reference.  “Normal.” He points to Sanji’s forehead.  “Corkscrew.”

Sanji slaps Zoro’s hand away, huffing and digging into his satchel for his flint and steel. He grumbles under his breath as he obtains the tools he needs, “You are far from normal. Born under a strange star.”

Completely ignoring Sanji’s jab, Zoro steps closer to ledge, peering down at the distance they climbed for the day.  The trail was a merciless hike and he can still feel his muscles pulsing from the haul. He smirks as he rubs the back of his neck.  At least it provided a good form of a workout since he no longer has the castle training grounds and night’s watchmen to fight with. A rock shifts underfoot from his weight and gravel lightly tumbles down cliffside.

Hearing the clatter, Sanji twists from his crouch by the firewood, halting his actions to stare at Zoro by the cliffside. “Don’t wander off the edge now,” he calls with jest. “But for reference in the unfortunate event that you do, you'll be tumbling to the west.”

“Should toss you in Long Lake.  See how good seahorses swim.”

Brow perking in irritation, Sanji retorts, “Should push you off that cliff right now, see how much a meatsack you really are. Muttonhead.”

“Bastard brow.”

“Ignoramus.”

Fire lit, dinner is prepared quickly and easily as they bicker in between. Sanji roasts the fowl over the flames, seasoning it with salt and spices he’d snagged from Icemark. Stomachs full, they sit by the fire for hours, staving off the cold chill from high elevation. After weeks of foulness, they’re both relieved to feel smooth cleanly skin underneath clothing heated by their crackling fire. Long past the sun’s retirement beyond the horizon, the night’s clear sky is brimming with a million glistening stars and a full lush moon shining down on them. They tilt their heads up to gaze at the stars in awe until their muscles roar from the strain of their travels once again.

Zoro rotates his arm in a circular motion as he rubs his shoulder muscles.  Not wanting all their painstaking effort to have been for naught, he promptly rises to his feet and wordlessly ambles back to the hot spring.  Dropping his pants, he lobs them at Sanji’s head before splashing back into the water.

Indulging in Zoro’s whim, Sanji grins cheekily, tugging the article of clothing off his head and removing his shirt and pants hastily. He ogles Zoro’s form once again as he sinks into the water, more hot and soothing now that the cold night temperatures are upon them. He’s noticed the way Zoro’s been rotating his shoulder -- his muscles back there must be tense. Sanji is eager to relieve him of that tension, enticed by the spark that has been steadily growing inside him when it comes to this fascinating man. Sanji wades over to his companion who is settling in the water by a rocky edge of the spring, bronze skin glistening in the moonlight. Sneaking up behind, he places his palms over Zoro’s shoulders and begins slow, languid massages with his thumbs between his shoulder blades.

Surprised by the sudden touch on his back, Zoro freezes a moment before melting into the feeling of Sanji’s strong fingers turning the knots in his back to butter.  He tilts his head down and closes his eyes, losing himself in the moment as every strained muscle is tenderly kneaded and caressed. Completely put at ease, Zoro twists to face Sanji and is met with a slender hand on his chest.

Weaving his fingers along the developing scar tissue, Sanji examines every grisly jagged edge and crevice while appreciating the firmness of his chest. “It’s healed so well,” he murmurs, lifting exploratory eyes to meet Zoro’s laden stare.

Under the bright moonlight, Sanji’s distinct features stand out even more alluringly than they do in the sun.  His pale flesh reflects the luminescent glow and the normally golden hair seems platinum silver. Zoro gazes into the round eyes with a burning intensity, enraptured by the depths of the sea blue.  Unable and unwilling to disregard the captivating energy between them, he lifts his hand from the water and wraps his fingers around Sanji’s thin forearm, pulling him even closer. Without hesitation, he leans in, sinking to the bottom of his desires and presses their lips together.

Closing his eyes, Sanji shifts his hands atop Zoro’s shoulders as he plunges into the kiss, severely out of practice and yet the energy between them is so charged and magnetising, he is naturally pulled into its rhythm. They start slow and lazy, experimenting and exploring their mouths until Zoro wraps an arm around Sanji’s waist, tugging their bodies flush, skin to skin. The feeling is heavenly, causing Sanji to test their waters further with a teasing lick to Zoro’s lip, eager for more excitement and passion.

“Fuck,” Zoro curses against Sanji’s lips before diving in deeper, brushing their tongues together with fervent passion.  He feels Sanji’s fingers ensnare the short strands of hair on the back of his head as their heated motions intensify, his arms completely wrapped around the thin waist.  With a small nip at Sanji’s bottom lip, Zoro trails his mouth down to plant kisses along the curve of his jaw.

Enraptured by Zoro’s hot tongue and lips drifting down to his neck, Sanji tilts his head to encourage him more, panting as he begins to ask, “Have you always --” A stolen kiss back to his lips, silencing him and making him hum in pleasure. After several leisurely kisses, Zoro releases his mouth and Sanji breathily continues, “...Always preferred men?”

“Yeah,” Zoro grunts, gripping Sanji’s hips in a bruising hold as he spins their bodies, pushing the limber form back against the rocks, pinning him.  He captures his mouth in another searing kiss, running a hand up to the back of his slender neck, drowning completely in his hunger for more.

Breathless, Sanji again peppers their kisses with a broken up inquiry, “And you’ve -- done this before?”

This time Zoro tugs away, staring into Sanji’s curious gaze.  “Yeah,” he answers again, recognizing the wide-eyed vulnerability before him to be one of inexperience.  The cloud of passion clears in his head and he implores for confirmation, “Have you not?”

Sanji lets his gaze linger on the steaming water sparkling in the moonlight. “I spent my life at the wall,” he reminds quietly, eyes lifting to face a steely stare. It’s a complicated matter and getting into it now would seem inappropriate. Heart beating loudly in his chest, Sanji is suddenly very aware of his legs spread between Zoro’s waist, shifting one of the long limbs stiffy in the ensuing silence, darting his eyes away.

Feeling Sanji’s movements underwater, Zoro frowns at the thought of losing the closeness of the man’s body.  He lifts a hand to Sanji’s face, thumb tenderly trailing across his cheekbone. Doesn’t want to press forward if it’s not right but doesn’t want to stop something they may both want.  With a sharp exhale, he sinks into the water and shifts to sit next to Sanji, thighs still touching as he leans against the rocks.

The comfort of Zoro’s hold sorely lost, Sanji finds the courage to look back to his companion, skin still buzzing from their legs bumping against each other under the water. He is further charmed by Zoro’s honourable actions as the man is staring straight ahead, appearing unsure of where to go from here. Sanji feels his arousal strongly swallowed by the heat of the hot spring, craving release. He lifts his hand, cradling his fingers underneath Zoro’s gold earrings, dangling them playfully as he elaborates, “Never said I’m not willing to try.”

Zoro turns his gaze back to Sanji as the lust builds in him once more, those teasing words all the confirmation he needs.  Arm snaking around Sanji’s waist, he drags the man into his lap, their chests close as he positions the long legs around his hips.  Seizing his lips again in fervent, passionate kissing, Zoro moves a hand underwater to caress Sanji’s hardness, taking pleasure in the soft moan that escapes into his mouth.  He rhythmically strokes at the same pace of their tongues searching and tasting the depths of one another.

Sanji is completely enveloped in the pleasure Zoro is giving him, discovering for the first time in his life what he’s only fantasised about in dreams, the thrill of being thrust into the throes of passion with another man. He’s ached for it over many tedious years and lonely nights, the sensations he’s drowning in now are beyond alleviating -- they’re purgative. Bucking his hips to the cadence of Zoro’s hand, Sanji is peaking in mere seconds, acquainting himself at last with the sensaratory submersion of another man's warm touch. He groans against Zoro’s lips and shivers as he goes over the edge, releasing the burdens of his past and cherishing so deeply the freedoms of his present.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Map of Westeros](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/e/e7/Map_of_westeros.jpg)
> 
> If you’re interested, take a look at the map above. It’ll help you envision the route Zoro and Sanji are journeying on.
> 
> The world is split into two distinct continents - Essos and Westeros. Westeros is more United Kingdom-esque -- multiple kingdoms, medieval cultures and practices, very English-style accents. Essos is a more exotic continent to the East. There’s not much known about it to those who have never been. Sanji has read about it from being a Maester’s steward and having access to books. They would be safe there due to the lack of political Houses and kingdomship.
> 
> House Velaryon are also a house from Westeros. They are of Valyrian ethnicity like the Targaryens. Their relations with them were so great that the Targaryens used to marry to Velaryons to keep the Valyrian bloodline pure. So while Sanji is a bastard Targaryen his race is still full-blooded Valyrian.
> 
> We are trying to Game of Thronesify the One Piece names. Hence, our weird spelling of Zeph and Kiuna, Zoro’s birth name being Zoranoros, and Sanji’s true name being Sanjys. You will see this as a common theme throughout the story but rest assured, we are doing our best to make the names still recognizable, even if it takes some creative squinting.


	5. Chapter 5

 

_ v. _

 

The scent of extinguished campfire wafts to Sanji’s steadily arousing senses as he opens his eyes, squinting at the gleaming morning sun. The northern air at their elevation is crisp and chilly, causing an immediate shiver to wrack through his entire body. He feels a solid presence behind him, a strong arm slung over his waist, keeping their bodies close and warm. Soft snores are tingling the back of his neck, causing him to tilt his head up slightly, taking in what he can make out of Zoro’s form snuggling against him. 

He is a stupendous mix of light and heavy hearted, unsure of how to assimilate with their growth in intimacy last night. Gently prying Zoro’s hand from his waist, Sanji rises quietly with another tremble from the cold, making his way over to the remainder of their wood and prey, scoping them out. He’ll restart the fire to warm them and fill their bellies before they journey on. 

Zoro’s brows furrow at the sudden loss of warmth at his side, stirring him out of his sleep.  He lets out a mighty yawn, rolling onto his back and blearily opening his eyes to the morning sky.  Heavily sighing, he scratches his head, then adjusts himself, before sitting up to glance around their camp.  Sanji’s already crouching by their pile of firewood, picking out dry pieces, probably for cooking breakfast. Zoro grunts in his direction and lays back down, closing his eyes again.

Hearing that his companion is awake but not yet ready to face the day, Sanji leaves him in peace for now. He doesn’t quite know what to say yet, so he focuses on preparing breakfast. He’ll deal with it when their food is done and Zoro is forced to rise and eat. 

The smell of food breaks Zoro out of his doze and he sits up again to find Sanji’s finished their breakfast and ready to hand him the charred meat.  He accepts it wordlessly and digs in ravenously, completely demolishing his meal. His empty stomach taken care of, he finally stands and goes about some form of morning routine.  Pissing, rubbing water on his face from the hot spring, stretching his limbs. The boiling waters have done wonders for his back, all his previous soreness gone. Taking a seat by the fire once again, he stares at the morning sun rising in the distance.

Sanji is just finishing his breakfast when Zoro joins him by the fire. The silence between them is weighing heavily on him and becoming distinctly awkward, so after tossing his bones into the fire, he looks over to Zoro whose eyes are on the sun. He wants to lay out all his curiosity on the table about the man and their pleasurable acts in the moonlight.

“Did you familiarise yourself with men like that in Winterfell?” 

Zoro raises an eyebrow at the question, shifting his gaze to Sanji.  “Yeah,” he answers as he studies the man sitting near him with a cold glare.  “That bother you?”

Frowning at the severe stare he’s receiving, Sanji shifts into a cross legged position on the ground. Not abandoning Zoro’s hardened eyes, he says honestly, “Of course not. I’m merely curious.”

“Hadn’t crossed your mind?” Zoro questions with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest.

“I suppose it did,” Sanji responds distantly. 

Many of those lonely nights involved fantasies Sanji wasn’t certain he was supposed to be having. He always considered it a result of growing up devoid of women much too early on, making him backwards and perverse. Being raised in his extreme environment surrounded by the kingdom’s poorest examples of men, much of Sanji’s perceptions of healthy romance and sex were mere glimpses. These glimpses were in the form of books, tales and fables. They were sung of in songs or discussed once in a blue moon with Zeph. They were always sternly focused on a man’s courting of a woman, chivalry and kindness being of utmost nobility and merit. The only exposure to what he’d experienced last night had been frowned upon rumours circling around Icemark. 

After some silence with his thoughts, Sanji divulges, “I heard whispers about some of the watchmen having a go at each other when drunk and desperate for a woman. Outside of the watch, I never thought a man could choose to be that way.”

Zoro nods slowly, piecing together that last night must have been some sort of act of desperation.   There’s a newfound sense of freedom for them both now that they’re away from the wall and the boundaries of their oaths -- must’ve made his travel companion act rash.  He responds with a shrug, accepting his role in Sanji’s whim. “Never thought much about it.”

“What about women?”

“Not my type.”

Sanji smiles faintly, reflecting on that same comment Zoro made at the start of their travels. So that mystery is now solved. He hums in intrigue. “I see.”

The morning sun now fully risen, they need to start their trek down.  Zoro points to Sanji’s satchel. “Map?”

That breaks Sanji out of his inquiries. He stretches over to his satchel, plucking out his map and unfurling it to scope out their route for the day, scarcely aware of Zoro looming over amidst his deep concentration. 

Leaning over Sanji’s shoulder, Zoro quickly finds the rocky formation near Long Lake -- their current location.  As he scours over the landmarks, he grins as he recognizes a route they can take. “There’s a town east of Holdfast.” Zoro indicates the spot by reaching over and tapping the map.  “Near White Knife, outside the forest. Seedy place. It’ll be safe.”

Sanji’s eyes widen as Zoro points out locations on the map, reading the letters of village names with ease. He never expected someone of Zoro’s origin to be literate. This is a fascinating revelation to him, causing him to ask openly, “You can read?”

Zoro gives Sanji an incredulous look.  “You ain’t the only one, seahorse.” 

“Your upbringing would suggest otherwise,” Sanji grumbles, irked at the nickname that is becoming painfully prominent these days. “How did you learn?”

“The man who took me in made sure I could read and write.  His daughter, too. Felt it was important.” Zoro settles back in his seat, glancing at Harmony with a subtle smile on his lips.  “A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone.”

Sanji chuckles smoothly at the phrase, tickled by its use. He then nods, accepting Zoro’s route as he rolls up the map and puts it in his satchel. “We’ll take your way this once. If just to get supplies and possibly find you a sword.” 

Their course set, Zoro busies himself with putting out the fire and strapping Harmony to his back, preparing their descent back to the ground.  He gives the hot springs one last lingering look, appreciative for how good they felt on his muscles and the small moment with Sanji they hosted in the moonlight.  The trek down is tedious but ultimately uneventful, both focused on not slipping on the loose rocks. By the time they are back to level ground, their chests are heaving with exertion, foreheads dripping sweat from the labourious hours.  Zoro’s thankful for the coolness of Long Lake as he dunks a hand into its waters and speckles his hot face and neck.

Stepping up to the shore, Sanji sighs blissfully and joins Zoro in his rejuvenating splash. Suddenly, a question forms on his lips, one that he’s been pondering for quite some days now into their travels.  “What do you plan to do in Essos?”

“Find work.  Learn the land.”  Zoro stands and adjusts the sword on his back.  He’d spent many of their quiet moments together wondering the same.  Being completely free of Westeros meant starting new and he intended to do it right.  Exploring north of the wall had shown him the greatest wonders of his life. He now yearns to see what’s in the east.  “What are your intentions?”

Sanji absorbs Zoro’s answer, nodding in agreement. “Same as you. Travel to all of the Free Cities. Lys in particular, I hear their seafood is the best in the world.”

“Hope you find it,” Zoro comments idly as he turns in multiple directions, finally picking one to set off their journey.

Sanji sighs and strides over to correct his path with a strange pang in his chest. So it seems Essos will be where they go their separate ways. He can’t say it’s unexpected, they merely teamed up due to their similar circumstances. Once they cross the Narrow Sea and have Essos beneath their feet, there will no longer be a reason to stick together. Yet there’s this strange disquieting sensation nestling in deep behind his heart.

They trek along the coast of the lake for the next couple hours until Zoro spots an abandoned row boat on the shore ahead. Excited about their luck, they scope it out, examining it over carefully for any holes or signs of rot. It’s in surprisingly good condition, must have been abandoned relatively recently. Even the oars are still intact. They work together loading the boat with their supplies, pulling it off the shore and into shallow water. After climbing inside, they set off along the lake. Zoro takes the first shift rowing, the southern current gentle but it’s course is still swifter and less strenuous than travelling on foot. 

Sanji meanwhile relishes in the soothing sway of the boat, kicking his feet up to taunt Zoro. “I could get used to this,” he jokes blithely.

Zoro uses an oar to splash water at the cheeky grin turned on him in response.  “Get used to swimming.”

“You bastard!” Sanji curses, wiping the cold water from his face and neck with a growl, kicking at Zoro across from him wherever his legs will reach. Their ensuing struggle sends the boat into a fierce rocking fit that nearly tumbles them into the lake. Panting and clutching onto the sides of the boat to sturdy it, Sanji notices their scuffling has them drifting back into the shallow waters of the shoreline. 

“You’re the bastard, Waters,” Zoro quips as he uses an oar to shove them away from the shallows and set them back on course again.  

“Yeah? Well you’re an abomination to the gods with that hair,” Sanji retorts, giving Zoro another kick to the shin for good measure. 

Zoro continues to gently row in silence, happy that the slight pull of the current is enough to help them float without too much strain.  They both need to keep a sharp eye on the shoreline for any signs of possible enemies. While travel by water may be swifter and less challenging, it leaves them more open to be spotted.  Northern bannermen, members of the night’s watch, enemies from the south, and even just common scum all pose threats, some greater than others. The southern upheaval is the most unclear to him, unsure where the dangers lie.  Sparing Sanji a questioning look, Zoro decides he should be aware of all the necessary details of this rebellion they are walking straight towards. It’s the only way he will be able to keep them both safe, especially Sanji, now knowing his status as a King’s bastard.  That makes him an enemy of both sides of the war.

“What are our threats with the rebels?”

Lifting his eyes from the water at Zoro’s question, Sanji settles back against the boat’s humble stern. He lingers on it for a pensive moment before responding, “Well, they’re mostly northern bannermen defending the Starks and Baratheons. The last raven Zeph received informed him that most of the battling is going on in the south. But northerners are extremely loyal to the Starks, so we have to tread cautiously. Targaryen hatred is running strong up here,” Sanji pauses, mulling in his thoughts. “We’re defectors as well. You grew up in Winterfell. So you know they take pride in the night’s watch. If we’re captured by anyone in the north and found out, we’ll be sent back to the wall to be executed.” 

Zoro nods as he continues his repetitive rotation of the oars.  “This village is safe,” he asserts with subtle grin. “Dreadfell isn’t so fond of the Starks.  There ain’t much loyalty.”

“I trust you’re right,” Sanji says, curving up the corner of his lips. 

They drift on for several more hours, switching shifts rowing until they’re forced to make camp when the sky darkens. They have to be careful not to linger in the water after sundown, or they’ll struggle to find their way back to shore. After resting up for the night, it takes another day of navigating the current of the vast lake for it to taper into a stream. Before they know it, they’re surrounded by forest on each shore. As the next day expires, sunlight waning in the thickening canopy, they realize they need to soon find a good spot to rest their boat and make camp. 

They drag the boat onto the shore of the river, making sure no water is lapping at its hull. They don’t want to wake up to it traveling downstream without them. They quickly set up camp and just as Sanji starts a fire with wood Zoro has gathered, he sees in the dim light of dusk the reflection of yellow eyes and a lumbering shadow from the depths of the trees.

“Zoro,” he calls sharply, stepping back and pointing out the possible threat. 

Slowly rising and searching the brush, Zoro spots the predatory stare gazing at their campsite and waves a hand to shush Sanji and stall his movements.  His skin tingles as he remains motionless, eyes glued on the hulking figure slowly moving towards them. Harmony is within arm’s reach but his actions will have to be quick if he has any hopes of besting a wild animal, especially in these woods.  Pulse quickening, his eyes widen as he the creature steps out of the thicket and comes into clear sight.

Sanji grasps the hilt of his shortsword firmly, getting into a defensive stance when he sees the size of the animal they’re up against. A direwolf. He’s never seen one in person, but there’s no doubting the identity of this creature given its massive size, easily reaching their chests in height on all fours. It’s thick peppered grey coat is dazzling as it shifts with every graceful movement, yellow eyes piercing and wild as they lock onto them. Sanji glances quickly between Zoro in front of him and the beast, uncertain of the best course of action. He does a quick scan around them, confirming that it’s alone and they’re not about to become supper to a pack of ravenous wolves.

Zoro keeps his heavy gaze locked on the penetrating stare of the direwolf, standing tall with a deadly calm, completely unwavering.  In his years at Winterfell, he learned time and time again in order to gain the respect of a wolf, you must not back down. An uneasiness settles across their camp, the direwolf unmoving as he studies them both.  Squaring his shoulders, Zoro rubs his fingers together, waiting for any cue that he should grab his sword but the moment never comes. Instead, the monstrous predator looks between them both before turning to saunter back into the forest, tail swaying as he disappears into the dark.

As the tension fades, Zoro keeps his focus pinned on the spot the direwolf occupied.  They stand in silence until he finally eases into a relaxed stance, speaking quietly, “Fate is peculiar.”  Glare morphing into a sly grin, he turns to look at Sanji. “Shit yourself, Waters?”

After releasing a reprieved sigh, Sanji grumbles at the jab, “Oh, please. The beast would have ripped your throat out before you drew that deadweight sword of yours.”

“A valiant death,” Zoro concedes as he settles on the ground near their fire.

“I’ll rip your throat out myself,” Sanji wisecracks, returning to the fire and taking another wary look through the tall trunks around them. “Should we be worried?”

Eyes wandering back to the brush the direwolf disappeared in, Zoro pauses a moment before shaking his head.  “He won’t be sending his pack.” 

Sanji raises a brow, asking sarcastically, “Did the wolf tell you that?”

“Grew up under its sigil,” Zoro explains with a smug smile.  “Like how you speak seahorse.”

“So that means you can talk to grass,” Sanji quips with a toothy grin. Zoro merely scoffs in response. Crouching by the fire now, Sanji stares into its glowing flames, pondering their recent encounter with amazement, in hindsight. “I’ve never seen a direwolf. Fuckers are big.”

“Means we’re close to Winterfell,” Zoro says seriously as he tosses a small twig into the fire. “Need to stay focused.”

Sanji nods, the gnarl in his gut prompting him to stand once more and begin cooking their late supper. He thinks on Zoro’s words, about needing to stay focused from here on out now that they’re getting close to Winterfell, the heart of the north. They’re in dangerous territory with a lot more risk of running into enemies. 

Sanji wonders if this is why over their recent days of travel, nothing has come of that night in the moonlight. They do want to stay sharp and any distractions or vulnerable moments could mean their lives. He knows the logic behind it, but Sanji still can’t help the lingering desire to explore further with the man. He’s struggling to read Zoro on the topic, choosing to remain silent for the time being and see if he’ll initiate something else. He wonders if his prodding on past experiences days ago may have offended him in some way. But in the end if Zoro doesn’t make a move, Sanji will resolve himself to test their boundaries once more when the moment’s right. 

 

* * *

 

Another day has passed and they are back to trudging through the forest on foot -- their wooden vessel finally giving out on them and springing a leak.  Luckily none of their precious supplies were lost as they made it to shore, knowing how vital each item in Sanji’s ridiculous satchel could be. Zoro keeps his stare forward.  According to the map, they should come upon Dreadfell in the next few hours unless Sanji’s got them lost. He side-eyes the man walking silently next to him. Wouldn’t be the first time he took them down a route that doesn’t make sense to Zoro.  In preparation of reaching the village soon, Sanji had dirtied his hair with mud to hide the lightly coloured shade. They can’t take any chances of his Targaryen features being recognised.

A faint noise of shouting can be heard ahead causing Zoro to stop in his tracks and grab Sanji by the shoulder, gesturing for him to be still and listen.  The woods are silent for a beat and then again, more shouting. Calls for help.

Sanji gives Zoro a severe look before turning his head in the direction of the cries. “Did you hear that? Someone’s calling for help.” 

“None of our concern,” Zoro retorts as he motions towards the opposite direction.  “Go this way to avoid it.”

“But it could be the cry of a maiden in danger,” Sanji says, grinning stupidly as he immerses himself in a daydream of knighthood. 

Zoro eyes Sanji’s cloudy expression skeptically.  Dumb bastard seems to actually be fantasising about saving a helpless wench.  He shakes his head in disappointment. “Foolish.” 

Pulled from his reverie, Sanji smacks his palm to the side of Zoro’s head. “Regardless, we should help,” he resolves, shrugging out of his grip and striding towards the noise.

“Hey,” Zoro calls after Sanji, darting a hand forward and grabbing a fistful of his cloak.  He tugs the man back and meets the agitated glare with a stern look of his own. “Don’t just galavant in there.”  When he’s met with unwavering defiance, he rolls his eyes and explains further, “Could be dangerous.”

Eyes remaining obstinate, Sanji inquires harshly, “So what do you suggest we do? Just ignore it?” 

Zoro clenches his hold on the cloak harsher, shaking it slightly for emphasis.  “Search quietly. Won’t be much help if we’re killed.”

Sanji’s icy glare melts, content that Zoro is accepting of his inability to let this slide. “Okay. Quietly,” he whispers, hand closing over Zoro’s grip on his cloak before they separate and discreetly navigate through the woods, following the noises of distress. 

When they finally see movement, they dart behind a large tree trunk, scoping out the situation. Two men are in the middle of a deadly encounter with a wild boar, one of the men on the ground, writhing on the dirt and clutching a wound. The other man is scrambling around, trying to not get skewered by the boar’s menacing tusks. 

“One’s injured,” Sanji whispers urgently to Zoro, eyes not leaving the grounded man who appears to be in absolute agony. 

“They’re hunting boar without a bow,” Zoro observes with a raised brow at the peculiar circumstances the two have gotten themselves into.  

“This shocks  _ you _ of all people?” Sanji quips. 

“Hush, seahorse,” Zoro returns with a glare before he focuses again on the scene before them.  The one on the ground shows no sign of getting up and the one left standing circles his friend defensively, attempting to protect him from another attack.  Thinking quickly, Zoro twists back to Sanji. “Give me your bow and go to the injured.”

Growling under his breath, Sanji nods and loops the bow and quiver off his back, handing it to Zoro. “Don’t miss, amatuer,” he taunts before rushing off to the injured man, hand already unbuckling the flap of his satchel. Suddenly, something whizzes past his head just as he’s bending down for aid. A short squeal from ahead and the boar is on its side, dropped dead with an arrow expertly landed in its head. He gapes, glancing back to Zoro in astonishment. 

Zoro lowers the bow, smirking at Sanji’s wide-eyed shock.  The moment is quickly lost as the stranger he just saved bounds towards him, waving fanatically.  

“Hey, you!  Broth’a! You saved our asses!” 

Stepping out of the brush, Zoro doesn’t let his guard down as the man approaches him jovially. “No problem.”

Twisting on his heel, the eccentric man calls to where Sanji is knelt next to his companion.  “Think you could save him, mate? That beast nearly impaled him!”

Taking note of the death grip the injured man has on his arm, Sanji reaches over, hands hovering over the afflicted area. “I’m here to help. Let me see,” he informs calmly. 

The man’s teary eyes connect with his and slowly he nods, acceding and removing his hand. His shirt is torn and underneath there’s a small flesh wound, maybe only an inch or two in length. Not very deep of a laceration, could more accurately be described as a scrape. Only needs a splash of wine and a couple wraps of bandage. 

Disappointed in the stark contrast of the man’s reaction to the meager injury, Sanji asks with a sigh as he pulls out a sizeable vial of mulled wine, “That’s all? A scrape to the arm and you’re crying like an infant?” 

The man whimpers as the wine makes contact with his raw skin. “Hurts, ya know! You try nearly gettin’ a run through by one of ‘em beasts!”

“Fine, fine,” Sanji says exasperatedly, unravelling a roll of bandages to wind around the man’s arm.

“We were blessed by the gods that you wandered by, stranger!” 

Zoro studies the dark haired man before him, taking in his appearance as he continues to babble on.  By the state of his clothes, he’s a commoner. Strange tattoo on his face. Completely unintimidating.  Zoro is pulled from his thoughts as the man beams proudly and juts out his hand.

“I’m Jonny.”  He nods over his shoulder towards his friend.  “That’s Yonn. We’re from Dreadfell, up the road.”

Having sized up the men to be completely harmless, Zoro takes the hand offered to him and gives it curt shake.  “Zoro.” He points ahead. “Sanji.”

The man -- Jonny -- nods vigorously, the goofy grin never leaving his face.  “You’re so skilled with a bow,” he says excitedly before his eyes gleam at the sight of Harmony.  “And a greatsword! Whoa, Yonn! Look at this!”

“Aye! Let me get a look!”

Still crouched, Sanji stares back and watches as the man known as Yonn sprightly dashes over to Zoro, apparently in good spirits all of a sudden. He raises a brow and stands, slipping the bandages back in his bag. After meandering over, Sanji pauses with a hand to his hip as the two men ogle Zoro’s sword. Giving up entirely on expecting any gratitude, he looks to Zoro with a begrudged expression, hand outstretched for his bow.

Taking notice of Sanji’s beckoning hand, Zoro gives him back the bow and quiver as Jonny and Yonn study Harmony intensely.

“Is it Valyrian steel?”

“Have you killed anyone with it?”

“How heavy is it?”

“What in seven hells -- do you have  _ green _ hair?”

Zoro glares at Yonn’s question, folding his arms across his chest.  “And?”

The duo share an incredulous look.  “Amazing!” 

Sanji grimaces at Zoro’s new admirers, his mind all too suddenly taken back to the wall and the watchmen’s obnoxious praise of the former ranger. He pokes some fun their way, “If you dullards are trying to court him, he likes daisies.” 

Turning his glare from Yonn to Sanji, Zoro’s frown deepens at his companion’s cheeky grin.  The insult is lost on the duo as they continue fawning over him until finally Yonn halts his friend with a solemn look.

“Nojyko.”

Jonny groans in response.  He turns back to Zoro and Sanji and inquires excitedly, “Are you headed to Dreadfell? We have an Inn you can rest at.  It’s not much of a journey from here.”

Sanji looks to Zoro for confirmation, since his companion is the one familiar with this village. Zoro nods, his steadfast eyes conveying his trust in the men. It’s enough to satisfy Sanji too. It’s not as if they’re getting off to a rough start, saving their asses like this. “Please,” he gestures ahead. “Lead the way.” 

Zoro watches on with an amused smirk as the two men attempt to haul the wild boar over shoulder to carry it along their trip.  Feeling another spark of sympathy, he takes the beast from the men and drags it behind by the tusks, earning himself more cries of praise.  As annoying as they seemed at first, the two are quickly growing on him.

“Hunting without weapons?” Zoro asks Yonn as they set off, Jonny and Sanji in the lead.

“Lost my sword when the thing struck me,” Yonn explains sheepishly.  “Jonny carries two dirks.”

Brow furrowing in confusion, Zoro adjusts his hold on the boar as he implores for more information, “Don’t have much for this Inn.  What’s the cost?”

“You’re our saviour!  Sent from the gods!” Jonny pipes in cheerily from ahead, elbowing Sanji as he flashes him a grin.  “Your gold is no good there!”

Sanji gives Jonny a dull expression for the unexpected strike, rubbing his arm bitterly. Free accomodation already, they can’t complain there. “Thanks,” he says humbly. “This inn. You said it was yours. Do you run it?” 

A silence falls amongst the two men for the first time since they made acquaintance.  Jonny shakes his head, “Not ours, truthfully. It’s run by a woman named Nojyko.”

“It serves as a brothel,” Yonn adds from beside Zoro.  “The rooms are great! And the women are beautiful,” he jeers with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

Sanji’s face goes pink. “Brothel?” he repeats, glancing back to Yonn. “I’ll gladly be in the presence of beautiful women, but I’ll never pay for that, you know. Maidens deserve more respect than that.”

Zoro studies Sanji’s profile as he speaks to Yonn, interest piqued by the reverence the man seems to hold for women.  His comments and fantasies about maidens and damsels are further solidifying Zoro’s assumption that the moment in the hot springs was one fleeting impulse, a desperate need for touch.  Zoro shifts his stare to the path before them. Sanji was unusually curious about his history with men. Perhaps the whole notion of what happened between them was unsettling to him. It’s best to just forget that night ever happened and focus on merely traveling to Essos together and nothing more.

“Maidens?” Jonny exclaims with a haughty laugh.  “Nojyko’s girls are not maidens.”

“Whores,” Zoro comments dully, scanning the man before him for any reaction.

Sanji frowns at the harsh term Zoro corrects him with, remembering his despisal of the word being tossed around by the brutes at Icemark. “They’re still women. Men should always treat them with dignity and courtesy.” 

Yonn snorts.  “When you meet Nojyko, you’ll understand.  Women of Dreadfell are without shame.” 

“You truly saved our lives, broth’a,” Jonny says to Zoro, looking over his shoulder.  “She would’ve had our heads if we didn’t come back with this boar.”

Several hours and many absurd jokes and shenanigans later, the four of them arrive in Dreadfell with the sun still high in the clouds. The village is comfortably nestled between river and forest, the buildings made of stone coated in dark soot and streets bustling with activity, smoke billowing from most chimneys. Many of the inhabitants are armed men, most of them appearing to be sellswords, thieves or any other variety of outcast. The women are a mix of beautiful and rough, plucking susceptible men off the streets and into their busts, whispering guarantees of their ultimate fantasies. The harsh clanking of metal on metal is a consistent cadence in the background, the distinguishable noise of blacksmiths honing their craft somewhere in this small town. It seems a new sword for Zoro isn’t quite so out of their reach. 

Sanji looks around wide-eyed, having never been to a place this seedy. It’s horribly fascinating and he is thrilled to be somewhere other than mountains, forests or riverside, but he does feel some unease about the position these women are placed in, be it their choice or not. He never did like the concept or practice of prostitution and this village is teeming with it. 

“Nojyko’s place is just up the road,” Jonny informs them as he points to a large building ahead.

Zoro follows his finger to the two-story structure.  Looks to be about what he imagined -- dark stone and wood, sign hanging over the door.  He squints at the picture and finds a recognisable symbol. He turns to Yonn, “It’s a tavern?”

“Best in town,” Yonn confirms with a broad grin.  “Rooms up on the second floor. Her establishment is top notch!”

Scanning the rough shape some of these buildings are in, Sanji raises a brow. “Not sure how much that says for a place like this,” he points out dully. 

“Come off it.”  Jonny pats Sanji on the back jovially.  “Better than sleeping in the woods, mate.”

Nodding, Sanji pulls up his hood after receiving a lingering stare from a shady fellow leaning against a wall. “Not going to argue with that.” 

“Jon! Sack!” 

A man calls over from a doorway, waving at Jonny.  By the way Jonny and Yonn react, Zoro assumes they’re friendly -- all smiles and waves back.

“Sack?” he asks Yonn, confused by the man’s reference.

“My family name,” Yonn explains.  “Most people call me that here.”

“Who’re your friends?  Do they want to trade some of that boar for fruit?” the man calls out to them, earning himself looks of horror in return.

“Can’t do that!” Jonny shouts, eyes wide as he clasps his hands nervously.  “It’s Nojyko’s!”

“Oh, carry on then!  Don’t want to piss off that bitch!”

“She has a reputation,” Zoro observes as they make it closer to the inn.  “Must be rough.”

Sanji continues to absorb their surroundings, musing that this Nojyko woman must be bold and assertive. It’s an admirable quality for a woman in a world molded for men. He scopes out the inn, to his surprise it’s actually in better shape than he initially expected. Honestly, he is over the moon about the prospect of having a bed to sleep on rather than the cold hard dirt, so at this point anything will do. Even a bale of hay. 

Stepping inside with the boar in tow, the tavern is dynamic and lively with the boisterous yells of men, their entrance only cutting the mood with a handful of glares their way. But the stares don’t last, presumably recognising the familiar company Zoro and Sanji keep. It’s not too large a room, but it’s size is charming and cozy. There’s a bar towards the back where a plum-haired barkeep with an arm tattoo is leaned over, chatting to a patron. She notices them and quickly ends the conversation, walking over with intimidating energy.

“Yonjon!” she booms, halting inches away from the duo with her hands to her hips. “What took you? The cooks have been waiting for that boar all day long. Did you have your thumbs in your asses?” 

“Sorry Nojyko!” Yonn whimpers as he takes a step behind Jonny.

“The boar almost killed Yonn!” Jonny explains as he gestures to Zoro and Sanji.  “We’re lucky these two stumbled upon us!” He pats Zoro on the arm. “My broth’a here saved us!”

Nojyko’s dark blue eyes scan them over intensely, her scowl fierce. Her features then relax as she sighs, irritated. “Thanks for saving these useless saps. I can’t trust them with pig shit.” 

Zoro lifts the boar by the tusk and nods to it.  “Where do you want this?”

Whistling in a high-pitched tune, she snags the attention of someone at the bar. The man rises, an apron tied around him. She snaps her fingers at him. “You got your boar. Hop to it or my patrons’ll starve to death.”

Sanji watches silently as the man nods, calling some other men to help him drag the boar to be butchered. He gets a glimpse of the kitchen before the door is shut and his focus on is Nojyko once more. He finds her to be a compelling example of a woman for these times, bossing her clan of men around without so much as batting an eye. 

“We offered them a room,” Yonn speaks up over Jonny’s shoulder nervously.  “For helping us.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Nojyko responds, “Aye. Would rather not be in anyone’s debt. You’ll have a room. And a round with any girl of your choosing.” She gestures to several of the topless women fancying her guests around the tavern. “That’s about as hospitable as I get. Anything else, you’ll need some coin.” 

“Trade the women for some ale,” Zoro barters as he folds his arms across his chest.  His eyes are locked on the pints decorating the bar giving no interest to the wenches sullying the space.

Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Nojyko smirks, crossing her arms. “Fair trade. If it’s what ya please.”

“It’s what I please,” Zoro agrees with a smirk of his own as he takes a step towards the bar.  Pausing, he motions back to his companion. “Let him have a woman if he chooses.”

Sanji gives Zoro a glare, raising a hand. “No, that’s fine,” he says somewhat sheepishly. He looks around to the women flirting, their supple bodies splayed over happy drunk men, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Their company out here will be enough.” 

Tucking away Sanji’s response as something to consider later, Zoro focuses on his main priority of obtaining a drink again.  The barkeep already has one poured for him as he reaches his station, offering him the mug with a sly grin. Two more cups are poured and suddenly Yonn and Jonny are at his sides, each clapping a hand on his shoulder as they pick up their mugs and thrust them into the air.

“Cheers to you, mate!”

Sanji settles beside Zoro, shoulder to shoulder, accepting a mug of ale from Nojyko with thanks. Curiously, Zoro shifts away from him as the man immerses himself in a torrent of praise from Yonjon, as Nojkyo seems to call them. Staring down at his ale, he ponders the last time he ever had any, not coming up with a solid answer. Lost in his mind, he continues to observe the fresh new environment, the only thing he has to equate it to being the mess hall at Icemark, minus the women. And even then, he’d spent most of his time in the kitchens. He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the barmaids sauntering up behind him and Zoro. He freezes as a small hand slithers up and down his chest, leaning with intent into his personal space. Looking over to his companion who is in the same position, Zoro appears nothing short of annoyed.

Zoro takes another swallow of ale as his vision is met with a robust pair of tits shaking before him.  Jonny and Yonn are also tugged away by a couple of homely girls they seem familiar with. He uses his forearm to guide the woman away, keeping her at an arm’s length.  “Fuck off, wench,” he curses at her, downing the rest of his brew. “Don’t waste your time here.” When the woman gives him a lingering look, he adds a comment he knows will surely get her to leave.  “Got no silver.”

Nojyko eyes the gruff exchange with interest as one of her girls huffs and hurries off. “Wasted time, you say?” she asks, grinning wildly as her intrigue climbs. “She’s one of my best. I’ll give her to you for free, on top of the ale.”

“Can stick with the ale,” Zoro requests as he places the empty mug in front of her.  

After refilling his mug, she slams it down brusquely and leans over the heavy wood of the bar, smirking knowingly, “My apologies I don’t have anyone to fit your needs.”

Picking up the mug, Zoro slightly tilts it towards her in thanks.  “This quenches my needs just fine,” he responds with a gleam in his eye as he takes a gulp.  Letting out a satisfied sigh, he twists to Sanji and finds the man happily chatting with a dark-haired barmaid who’s cloaked herself around him.  He turns his eye back to Nojiko. “He’s better fit for your services.”

She looks to Sanji’s pleased expression, nodding in agreement. “Aye. That’s obvious enough.” Then she asks, “What brings you lads here, anyway? Where you headed.” 

“East.”

The barmaid sings into Sanji’s ear, rubbing his chest sensuously, “Don’t get men as handsome as you around these parts.” 

Sanji keeps his arm politely around her waist as she sits on his lap, letting her grope his body and twirl his hair, flushing as her large bosom rests against his chest. “Well, I think you’ll find I’m more gentlemanly than most men.” He says it somewhat distractedly, turning his gaze to Zoro who, as expected, shooed the other woman away and is engaged in a conversation with Nojyko. He is somewhat torn on what he should be doing in this unfamiliar scenario, given his odd relationship with his companion. But Zoro has been more distant with him after their moment in the moonlight and Sanji is determined to enjoy his freedoms however they may come. And for now, some light-hearted flirting is all that he desires. 

The woman on his lap twists his face back to her with a strong grip to his jaw.  “Drink,” she says, holding his mug up. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

He accepts with a grin, swallowing a large amount of ale. “Do you fancy this sort of thing?” he asks, genuinely curious about the mindset of a woman in such a profession. “Being paid for such services?”

“I fancy it a lot,” she sings against his ear. “I enjoy giving men what they need.”

“Do these brutes ever disrespect you?” Sanji asks, eyes darting around briefly to the men in the tavern, “Hurt you?”

The woman places a finger over his mouth, shushing him. “Got a kind heart,” she whispers, mouth a breath’s width apart from his. “I do like kind men,” she says lecherously before pressing her plump lips into his.

In the midst of his conversation with Nojyko, Zoro catches a glimpse of Sanji’s lips locked with the woman in his lap out of the corner of his eye.  He doesn’t allow his expression to change but is surprised at the a cold pang he feels inside with the confirmation of his suspicions. Luckily they’ve not mentioned that night since the morning after.  Sanji must have completely forgotten about it or tucked it away. Sealing off that part of his memory, Zoro resolves to do the same with finality. Finishing off his mug, he motions towards it as he continues speaking with the innkeeper.

“Came from further north,” he explains to Nojyko cryptically as she fills his mug once again.  “Hope to go to the Fingers.”

“The Fingers? And what’s there for ya?” Nojyko asks, swigging from her own mug of ale. 

“A way out of Westeros,” Zoro answers quietly, a playful smirk teasing his lips.  “Fuck this land and its kings.”

A sharp brow perks at his bold words. “Essos. Must’ve done something dire to be headed there,” she assesses, hand to her waist. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. A good lot of these crooks, if they were any brighter, would be getting on the boat with ya.” 

Zoro’s known about this village for years, whispers of it prominent amongst common folk in Winterfell.  The biggest reputation of Dreadfell -- aside from its grubby atmosphere -- is the residents’ disdain for the Starks and their lordship.  A village of criminals and whores don’t appreciate the nobility and honour the Starks bestow upon all towns of the northern lands. The people of Dreadfell are heavily frowned upon by those from his home, assumed to be the lowest of the low.  The night’s watch don’t even shop for watchmen here. Given their circumstances, it’s more important to hide their true intentions and identities than to stake any loyalties. He doesn’t want Nojyko to suspect them of any ill will and compromise their travels.  With that in mind, Zoro rests his elbows on the bar and leans forward, speaking in hushed tones.

“All this talk of Starks and wars is reason enough.”  

Nojyko’s eyes are sharp and curious as she hums in response. 

Sanji is attempting to break away from his liplocking with the beautiful barmaid, content with the flirting and kissing for a short while but when she reaches over and boldly grabs his groin his back stiffens, hand automatically going to her wrist to stop her.

“Let’s make ourselves more comfortable. Know the perfect room with the softest bed,” she entices on his lips, voice sultry, apparently not letting his clear reservations faze her in the slightest.

His ears are hot from her suggestion, dumbfounded and unsure of how to turn her down gently. “I wouldn’t want to pay for such services.”

“This,” she replies, taking his hand and placing it on the creases of her pelvis with clear implication. “Is worth every coin.”

Tugging that very same hand away to the bar with a nervous laugh, Sanji says modestly, “I couldn’t possibly...”

She suddenly frowns, leaning back with a pout. “Am I not to your liking?”

“No, no, it’s not you, my dear. You’re lovely. I just...” Sanji blathers, trailing off. He opens his mouth for further explanation but the words die on his tongue. 

“Then you need more ale?”

Hearing the conversation happening at his side, Zoro becomes fed up listening to the increasing whine of the barmaid’s voice.  He leans over and catches her eye, shooting a nasty glare. “Fuck off, you whimpering bitch,” he commands sternly, pointing her away.  He turns his scowl to Sanji. “Follow or stay, I don’t care.”

Sanji takes in Zoro’s intensity of expression and words, clearing his throat as a sense of embarrassment washes over him. He can feel the fire behind Nojyko’s eyes as she gives her girl a strong look. The barmaid disentangles herself from him with an irritated sigh, tossing her hair before giving Sanji a cold glare and strutting off. 

“She’s got an attitude problem, that one,” Nojyko comments, stern eyes following the barmaid as the girl curls her arm around another man in the tavern. 

Sanji rubs his neck as he leans closer to the bar, grateful to Zoro for helping him gain his personal space back, comfortably shifting closer to him. He brings the mug to his lips, claiming politely, “She seemed gracious.”

“Didn’t know she was courting a bastard,” Zoro insults with a smug grin as he takes a drink of his brew.

Sanji nearly spits the ale from his mouth, instead swallowing a larger gulp than he anticipates, causing him to cough. Voice raspy, he leans into Zoro shoulder to shoulder, griping, “Better than a patch of moss.” 

“You’re an odd pair,” Nojyko criticises, glancing between the two. “But I like ya’s. I have a favour to ask of you both.”

“Anything you wish,” Sanji agrees immediately, smiling amiably. 

Zoro jabs an elbow into Sanji’s side, delivering him a fierce scowl.  “Wait to hear the request,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

A smirk of amusement sprouts on the innkeeper’s face before she goes on, “My little sister ventured to Essos years ago. Pretty redhead with a tattoo on her arm, like mine.” She gestures to her arm, getting them to take a close look. “Name’s Nami. If you run into her over there, watch your things. She’s quite the little thief. And give her a hello for me. Tell her to write me if she can. Haven’t heard from her in far too long.”

Sanji repeats the name of her sister in his head, vowing himself to never forget it during their future travels. “Nami,” he says aloud, testing the name on his tongue. He promises sincerely, “If I find her, I will honour your wish.”

Zoro empties the dredges of his mug and gives Nojyko a peculiar look.  “Need a favour from you now.”

“Oh?”

“Need work,” he continues, resting his chin on his palm.  “Enough coin to get a sword. Know where I can find some?”

“A sword?” Nojyko repeats, reaching over to poke at the hilt of Zoro’s sword. “That beast on your back ain’t enough?”

“Not quite.”

Lips thinning with a raised brow, Nojyko nods to Jonny and Yonn who are stumbling down from the staircase, back from their brief excursion with the ladies, cheeks flushed, sappy grins plastered on their faces. “If ya need work, I’m sure you’ll find it from those two. They know all the odd jobs around here,” she informs, setting her eyes back on Zoro. “Admire you enough. Sure they’ll help ya.”

As Zoro nods, Sanji is staring at the drunken moronic duo incredulously. “Are they even able to pay?” 

“They work for me,” Nojyko says, shrugging. “You’d be surprised. The girls rather enjoy them.” She gives Sanji a teasing look. “They don’t get shy over a little cock groping.” 

The rest of the evening is spent drinking and talking in merriment.  Zoro and Sanji were even gifted with supper -- tasting the boar they helped Jonny and Yonn slaughter in the woods.  Nojyko entertains them with tales about the duo, her girls, and life in Dreadfell. Well into the late hours, after their stomachs are full of ale and pork, they are shown to their shared room for the night.

It’s a modest room equipped with a bed, a fireplace and a chamber pot. Behind them a young boy shuffles in carrying a bucket of hot water, some soap and a sponge, telling them Nojyko tasked him with bringing it. He sets it down on the floor, lights the room’s candles and scurries away, closing the door behind him. 

Sanji undresses first, wanting to make use of the water while it’s still piping hot. As he crouches in front of the bucket, he glances up at Zoro. His companion doesn’t even spare him a look as he unloads the burden of Harmony from his back and kicks off his boots. Sanji continues sponging the filth off himself as Zoro lays on the bed, still drinking from his mug in what appears to be complete disinterest. The lack of acknowledgement has him frowning in displeasure. He knows he shouldn’t care, yet he’s several mugs in himself so perhaps he can blame it on the ale. 

Zoro takes a final swig from his pilfered mug and sighs, leaning to drop it on the floor by the bed.  He lays back and closes his eyes, listening to the drips of water as Sanji cleans himself. “You can have the bed,” Zoro announces flatly after a few moments, sitting up and tugging off his shirt.  He hauls himself up to go settle on the floor. “Can sleep anywhere.”

Finished with his light scouring, Sanji stands, wanting to test their boundaries once more if the other man won’t. He walks over to halt Zoro’s movements, arm to his shoulder as he faces him with keen eyes. He leans in close to Zoro’s lips, asking alluringly, “You don’t want to share?” 

Eyeing Sanji incredulously, Zoro takes a step back as a he glowers at the man before him, confusion wracking his brain.  Just hours before Sanji had confirmed -- hell, even flaunted -- his staunch interest in women. This turn of events has his brow twitching with bewilderment, much to his chagrin.  Speaking sternly, he questions with a callous glare, “What is with you?”

Arm falling to his side as Zoro shifts out of his grip, Sanji searches the genuine perplexity in the man’s eyes. This cold attitude of his is getting old. “What? Are you not interested anymore?”

Shaking his head with befuddlement, Zoro crosses the room and sits on the edge of the mattress, running a hand through his hair.  “What do you mean, ‘not interested?’” he asks slowly, looking up at Sanji still standing. “You thought of my preferences as acts of desperation.”  He bites out a derisive laugh and gestures towards the door. “Clearly interested in women.”

Releasing a small breath, Zoro’s confusion clicks in Sanji’s head as he takes in his words. He places a hand to his damp strands, sitting down beside Zoro on the bed, keeping a respectable distance between them. Staring down at his own nakedness, he is reminded of his flirtations backfiring, so he grabs a blanket and wraps it around himself. “It’s complicated,” he whispers, staring at the far wall. “You’re the first man I’ve ever done these things with. Forgive me if I don’t know how.” 

Staring at Sanji expectantly, Zoro can feel his confused haze clearing slightly with the admission.  He patiently waits, sensing Sanji has more to say.

“I’m sure you heard the rumours at Icemark, about men going south of the wall to seek out women, breaking their vows?” Sanji asks quietly, turning fleetingly to Zoro.

Zoro nods slowly.  He also knew of men who would rape wildling women north of the wall.  Breaking their oaths was a common dishonour amongst the weaker men of the night’s watch.  Something he’d always looked down upon during his time at Icemark. 

“For a short while, I was one of those men,” Sanji admits, staring down at his lap, feeling Zoro’s intense stare on him. “I was angry about my situation. Young, confused. Never cared about my oath. Felt it was only fair I knew what it was like being with a woman, before I was to forego it for the rest of my life. Most men of the watch had that small pleasure, at least. Even you had the freedom to explore in Winterfell before coming to the wall.” 

“Can’t compare to me,” Zoro admonishes, eyebrow raised at Sanji’s assumptions of his own explorations.  “Never found women enticing.”

Sanji pauses, absorbing Zoro’s comment. So the man had always known what he wanted. Sanji can’t say he’s surprised. He reflects on all of his confusions and turmoils growing up. The handful of experiences he gained with women and the end result of his deepest darkest fantasies alone at night. “I do think women are beautiful. And I was raised by Zeph to treat them with kindness and dignity. But my encounters with them from those days taught me that I am different than most men.”

“Different,” Zoro repeats, crossing his arms with a skeptical look.  “Your actions speak otherwise.”

“I enjoy harmless flirtations. If just as a freedom I never had,” Sanji explains, knowing this will sound disorienting. “But anything beyond that, laying with women, I will never enjoy it the way men are supposed to.” He closes his hands together beneath the blanket as he reveals further, slight cringe upon his face, “When I was with them, above them, I always desired to be in their place. Thought it made me perverse when I realised I wanted to be with men like that. Thought being raised at the wall had impaired me in some way,” he admits quietly, disturbed by the words exiting his mouth. He’s well aware that Zoro may laugh or mock him for it.

Zoro tilts his head at Sanji’s confession, understanding entirely.  Men fucking men is more common than most think but it’s still considered a sin to the gods -- the old and the new.  Zoro rejected those concepts long ago, completely at ease with his tastes however he could see how someone in Sanji’s circumstances may feel differently.  Especially with the harsh severity of the wall. “It’s not perverse,” he says bluntly with a shake of his head. “Do what pleases you.”

Sanji finally turns to look at him, heart filling with warmth at the acceptance in the man’s eyes and his stern words pushing him to be who he’s meant to be. Truthfully, he had never felt more pleasure than he did with Zoro at those hot springs. He releases a small breath before he responds, “I’m sorry if tonight confused you. Downstairs. I would never have laid with her. Couldn’t have.” Then he informs, “I was actually grateful when you intervened.”

Zoro taps his fingers against his bicep, arms still crossed as his gaze searches the man before him with a blank expression.  After an uncomfortable pause, he shakes his head, a placid smile appearing on his face. “Much less confusing now,” he proclaims, unfolding his arms and scratching idly at his bare chest.  “Your incessant questioning lead me down the wrong path.”

Cutting their tension, Sanji wisecracks, “Wrong path? Not surprised. It’s you, after all.” 

“Piss off, seahorse,” Zoro scorns as he lifts an arm to meagerly shove the man in the shoulder.  He lets his hand linger there, fingers stroking the pale skin.

Savouring Zoro’s soothing touch, Sanji taunts with a laugh, “So that’s why the cold shoulder lately? I thought you were growing shy with me, greenie.”

“Shy?” Zoro snickers as he reaches over the blanket and grips Sanji’s crotch brazenly.  “Nowhere close.”

Sanji’s back stiffens with pleasure, mouth parting with a stifled groan lingering on his lips. “Can see that,” he strangles out, laughing from the thrilling shock and gratification of Zoro flagrantly groping his cock. He brings a hand to the man’s chest, sliding it down his scar. “I’d like to see how shameless you really are, then,” he says seductively, eyes lifting to glean a reaction.

Intense stare instantly clouding with lust, Zoro rubs the hardening arousal through the blanket, eyes never leaving Sanji’s face.  The slender hand on his chest feels cool against his burning skin as he closes the gap between them and steals Sanji’s lips in a fierce kiss.  The taste is as captivating as he remembered it to be. He reaches his other hand around to the small of Sanji’s back and pulls him closer, wanting their skin to contact more.

Sliding his fingers through Zoro’s hair, Sanji’s breaths are heavy on the man’s lips as he’s pulled closer. He climbs onto the man’s lap, legs bent around Zoro’s waist as their bare chests connect. His cock already growing stiff between their bodies, his hands drift from Zoro’s neck to his back, rubbing along his spine and shoulders, pleased when he feels the man’s erection rubbing against him while they continue their fervent kisses.

Wanting and needing more, Zoro glides his hands up Sanji’s sides to his shoulders and shoves him back on the bed.  He flashes a carnal grin, the blue desirous gaze causing his hard cock to throb. Kneeling between Sanji’s legs, he trails his teeth and tongue down the pale, goose-fleshed skin, lingering to nibble on his hip bones.

“Do you want it?” Zoro demands in a deep voice, unable to keep the greed from his tone.  He moves a hand to wrap around Sanji’s arousal and give it a teasing stroke.

Hips raising eagerly to meet Zoro’s provoking touch, Sanji raises halfway on his elbows, eyes glazed over with lust. He figures it’s enough of an answer, but Zoro doesn’t stroke further, eyeing him primally with an expectant glare that has Sanji shivering with need. He shifts his hips impatiently again, answering hungrily, “I want it.”

Zoro relents, the words filtering through his ears and sinking immediately to the base of his cock.  With another stroke of his hand, he leaves one last kiss on Sanji’s skin before shifting to close his mouth around the head of his erection.  The moan that escapes his companion’s lips go straight to his groin and he sucks and tugs faster, wanting to hear more. His lust builds with every twitch and sound as he runs his tongue over Sanji with fervor. 

Pausing a moment, Zoro pulls away from his attentions on the pulsing length long enough to wet two fingers with spit, sly grin forming on his lips.  He ducks back down and continues working Sanji’s arousal with his tongue, his wet fingers testing their boundaries by pressing into him teasingly.

Laying himself flat on the bed, Sanji spreads his legs wider to enjoy Zoro’s bold touches with more ease. His companion’s mouth on his cock is euphoric in its own right, but his exploring fingers underneath are exciting Sanji even greater. There were some nights at Icemark where he’d tested this on himself, always envisioning what it might be like to have a man do it to him. Now that his dreams are reality, he can scarcely hold back his moans or the escalating heat spreading throughout his entire body. Zoro’s fingers stroke the perfect spot inside him and it rapidly becomes too great for him to bear any longer. His spine curls forward as he comes into Zoro’s mouth, powerful tremors cascading through his core, muting the groan hovering on his lips until it’s released in a loud, alleviating sigh. 

Zoro sits back on his haunches, admiring his handiwork proudly.  Sanji’s skin is flushed a deep red, blond locks sticking up wildly, expression one of bliss.  The sight alone sends a jolt to Zoro’s groin, reminding him of his unfinished business. He jerks down his pants, gripping his own erection and letting out a shuddery breath at the touch.  Sanji’s intense climax has him teetering close to his own.

Still swimming in the high of his release, Sanji hastily sits up and pries Zoro’s hand from himself, the man’s erection clearly throbbing with need. Without wasting a breath or waiting for a reaction, Sanji earnestly swallows him whole, sliding down once before licking up along the thick shaft. Having never indulged himself in this kind of act, Sanji is more than comfortable to work his way into a fast rhythm -- both of them being men, both of them knowing what to want. Eager to get Zoro off as quickly as possible, Sanji savours the way the man is pulling his hair, bobbing him harder and harder along his cock. The pleased breaths Sanji is extracting would get him hard again in seconds if his body weren’t still recovering. 

Fingers tightly woven in Sanji’s hair, Zoro moves his hand with the cadence of the mouth and tongue pleasing him, feeling the pressure mounting as he edges closer to coming. A loud grunt escapes his throat as he stares down at Sanji intensely, feeling the climax bubbling within him.  He attempts to tug the hot mouth away but his actions are ignored, Sanji bobbing and licking with more vigour, peeking up at him with a bold gleam in his eye. It’s too much for Zoro and he releases with an intense groan, body going rigid with each spasm. Chest heaving, he sinks onto the bed, his sweaty back hitting the mattress with a soft thump.

Watching Zoro fall into the bed has Sanji grinning mirthfully, happy that he was able to satisfy him and draw out such pleasant noises in the process. Still greedy for intimacy, he wipes his mouth and plants his chest on Zoro’s, sprawling overtop of him and sealing their lips together in a zealous kiss. Glad to feel Zoro’s enthusiastic response, Sanji keeps the pace of their kissing slow and languid as he revels in his taste, trailing his fingers along the segment of scar on his upper chest.

Entangling their legs, Zoro rubs his foot gently against Sanji’s ankle as their mouths continue slowly exploring.  He reaches up and clasps Sanji’s hand against his chest, weaving their fingers together as his other arm curls around the man’s thin waist.  He nips at Sanji’s bottom lip lightly before pulling him into a deeper kiss. The cold pangs he’s felt in his chest the past few days of their journey have completely melted into a calm, soothing warmth.  Their travels will be much easier without assumptions and tensions.

Squeezing their fingers tighter, Sanji sighs softly into Zoro’s mouth, letting their tongues entwine gently for a brief, blissful moment. Unsealing their lips, he tilts back slightly, their faces close as he gazes into Zoro’s eyes, finding comfort and contentment in their dark coal shade. Smiling softly, Sanji suddenly feels a wave of exhaustion overcome him from their tiresome day. He shifts to lay his head against Zoro’s chest, keeping their fingers weaved together as he closes his eyes, the relaxing breaths at his ear and the warmth at his cheek drawing him deep into sleep. 

Zoro shifts slightly and takes notice of Sanji’s closed eyes, realizing he’s fallen asleep.  With an amused smirk, he stills all his own movements, not wanting to wake him from his slumber.  Weariness of his own pulling him in, he joins his companion in rest, breaths syncing as he holds him close through the night.

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

_vi._

 

“Think you can handle it?”

Zoro raises a skeptical brow at Jonny’s beaming grin.  “This?”

“I know it’s a lot of lumber but we’ll pay you good for taking care it,” Yonn pipes in from his companion’s side.  

Shaking his head, Zoro takes a step back and looks over the pile of wood and twine resting at the side of the inn.  He peers across the small stretch of grass to the broken fence at the rear of the building. And again to the wood. And back to the fence.  The two of them are offering an outrageous amount of silver for such easy work. An amused grin paints his lips and he asks the duo one more time, “You’re sure?  This’ll take half a day at most.”

“We’re sure, broth’a!” Jonny confirms with a laugh, stretching out his hand to seal the deal.  He nods vigorously as Zoro accepts it with a strong shake. “Nojyko will be so happy to have her fence back.”

“We’re the ones who broke it,” Yonn admits sheepishly, rubbing his neck.  “She hasn’t let us forget.”

“Like to hear that story,” Sanji chimes in, overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation as he is immersed in the book Nojkyo has lent him. The hood of his cloak draped over his head, he sits on the ground nearby, his back to the stone of the building with his legs crossed.

The book he’s reading details the Houses of Westeros and all their fortresses and locations. He is flipping through pages and pages, searching for a hawk sigil, frown deepening in puzzlement as he struggles to find one anywhere. He was surprised the innkeep even owned one book, let alone several. Apparently her little sister had pilfered quite a few during her time here in the north. Been a skilled cartographer too, he’d seen Nojyko’s impressive collection of maps left in her sister’s wake.

“Not much of a story, really,” Jonny says as he turns to acknowledge Sanji with a grin plastered on his face.  “Piss drunk, the both of us. Yonn here thought it’d be fun to climb over the fence and chase around Nojyko’s hogs.”

“The fat bastards needed some company!” Yonn explains proudly as he wraps an arm around Jonny’s shoulder.  “Ol’ Snow here thought he’d join.”

“Bloody bad idea.”  Jonny catches Zoro’s eye, a devious gleam shimmering in the morning sun.  “One squealed a bit loud and gave us a good scare, Yonn falling straight into the fence and breaking a weakened beam.”

“That caused a stampede,” Yonn finishes with a sigh, shaking his head.  “Two more sections of the fence broken and the hogs all gone. That’s why we were hunting yesterday when you found us.”

“Scared by hogs,” Zoro chuckles as he tugs off his shirt, not wanting to tatter the only threads he has during his work.  The sun feels warm against his skin in the cool northern air. He starts hauling pieces of wood to the broken sections, stopping to analyze the best way to rebuild the entrapment.

Forcing his eyes down after drinking in the sight of Zoro’s naked back, Sanji shakes his head at the retelling of their antics. Placing his elbow on his thigh and propping his chin on his palm, he flips through another page. It's then that Sanji hears a group of men hustling by to their right. He doesn’t plan to glance up but when he feels gazes in their direction he’s compelled to, meeting a stern glare targeted directly at him. He darts his eyes back to his lap. The men pass by without issue, but it causes Sanji to drag his hood further over his head and feel an inkling of unrest.

Sanji looks to Jonny who is closest to him, asking quietly, “Get many Stark bannermen through here?”

“Starks?” Jonny repeats incredulously, sharing a knowing look with Yonn.  “They used to try now and then but not anymore. They’re not welcome in this village, broth’a.”

“They’re too busy with the rebellion, thank the gods,” Yonn adds with a laugh before ambling after Zoro and pointing out tools and materials he has lined up in the dirt.

“Then I suppose that means Dreadfell supports the Crown?”

Zoro glances over his shoulder, having heard Sanji’s question.  He watches Jonny’s reaction carefully. Their newfound friends shouldn’t be much threat but the hatred for that northern house runs deep in this town.  The inquiry could be taken the wrong way.

“Aye,” Jonny confirms as he squints into the sun with a blank expression.  “Most folks in this town thought those damn Starks got what was coming to ‘em.”

“Shouldn’t have protested so much at the capital,” Sanji adds vaguely, preferring not to make any waves by stating his true thoughts. He turns one of the last pages of the book, the hawk sigil still not spotted before continuing. “Could have avoided this war entirely.”

“Aye,” Jonny says again before calling out to his companion.  “Yonn! Got our friend Zoro everything he needs? We’ve got chores to do, broth’a!”

“All set here, mate!”

Zoro finishes hauling the wood to where he needs it, setting the last of the twine by the tools Yonn left for him.  He shoots a look Sanji’s way, grabbing his attention and tilting his head to motion for the man to come sit closer.

The energetic duo gone and the last page turned, Sanji slams the book shut and shuffles closer with a sigh, glaring up. “What is it?”

“What of Starks at the capital?” Zoro inquires in a low voice as he begins picking out pieces of wood and determining where in the fence they’re best suited.

Confusion settles on Sanji’s face for only a moment before he realises that Zoro, having spent most of his recent life north of the wall, probably didn’t hear about the details of the rebellion. Being from Winterfell, the fate of the Starks would be of interest to him. Quietly, he begins filling him in, “Probably everyone in the country knows why Robert Baratheon is leading this thing. Good tale to tell, his betrothed to-be got stolen away by the Targaryen prince so he’s fighting to win her back. But after Lyanna got taken, Lord Stark and his eldest son marched down to the capital, protested her kidnapping and were both executed by the King. Heard it was by wildfire.” He shoots Zoro a grievous look as the man halts his work briefly, appearing to take the information in. He concludes in a whisper, leaning closer, “The Starks are fighting for more than Lyanna.”

“Lord Stark was a good man,” Zoro mutters solemnly, keeping his stare locked on Sanji’s.  He reaches forward and tugs the hood lower over the man’s forehead. “Keep covered.”

Gripping the front of his hood after Zoro’s fingers release it, Sanji smirks, greatly amused. He asks cheekily, “What? Worried, are you?”

Zoro returns to his building and lets out a short laugh.  “No,” he retorts sardonically as he hoists up a log. “Don’t want your precious hair getting dirty.”

“Well, it’s kind of necessary at this point,” Sanji says, running fingers through his purposely muddied hair with a grimace. “Maybe we should worry more about that grass on your head.”

“This is coming from a seahorse.”

Ignoring Zoro completely, Sanji goes on. “Then again once we get a horse we’ll have something to feed it, at least.”

Just as Zoro thought, the work barely lasted into the afternoon.  Jonny and Yonn are ecstatic with his efforts, shouting his praises to the heavens while thrusting coins into his hands.  He offers to do more but they disagree, justifying the cost with both the fence and his assistance with Nojyko’s boar. After the tools are stowed away and chores around the inn complete, Yonn suggests they visit a local blacksmith he trusts to see about getting Zoro a sword.  

“You coming, broth’a?” Yonn asks Jonny as he stands from where he was sitting in the grass.

“You go on,” the man replies, gesturing towards the tavern door. “Going to help Nojyko with a couple more things.”

Sanji watches Jonny head into the tavern and turns back to catch Zoro’s questioning expression. “I’ll return her book and stay here, I suppose,” he explains, motioning to the book under his arm.

“Should stay close,” Zoro admonishes with a stern look.  He nods towards the inn, crossing his arms. “Take the book.  We’ll wait.”

The grim look Sanji is receiving tells him there will be no arguing this. Not like he wants to sit pretty in their room with books and maps anyway. He’s spent enough time on his ass reading for the day. Nodding, Sanji stalks off briskly to hand Nojyko her book back with a polite thanks. He is back outside again in moments and they head off, following the strong clanks and clangs toward the blacksmith’s.

“This guy has great work,” Yonn tells them as they wander through the town.  “Jonny and I only trust him.”

“How’s his price?” Zoro asks, keeping an observant eye on their surroundings as they walk.  So far people seem to mind their own business but he’s used to the looks his oddly coloured hair can receive in new places.  And he’s seen a few.

“He’s fair,” Yonn hums, scratching his chin thoughtfully.  “Might try to talk you up a bit but always willing to haggle.”

“Should trade Harmony in for a lump of coal,” Sanji jokes, voice light as he tows behind them, keeping his eyes on passersby with scrutiny. “Thing’s wasted collecting dust on your back, anyway.”

“Should sell you,” Zoro counters as he shoots a sharp glare over his shoulder at the man. He turns back forward, commenting nonchalantly with a sigh, “Wouldn’t fetch as much gold but there’d be way less bitching.”

“On the contrary, I’d fetch a good price. I’m rather unique,” Sanji says with a grin, lowering his hood as someone makes fleeting eye contact with him. “To think we’ve traveled all this way only to find you’re plotting to sell me off for a slab of steel. I’m hurt, truly.”

“Been my plan the whole time.”

“Here’s a plan. Some essence of nightshade in your ale tonight. Knock you out, seal you in a crate and send your grassy head to the Citadel for study.”

“That’s rough, broth’a!” Yonn laughs, digging his elbow into Zoro’s arm.  

As they approach the blacksmith’s, the familiar scent of steel and soot fills Zoro’s nostrils and he’s hit with a pang of nostalgia deep in his chest.  The corners of his mouth twitch, a soft grin ghosting his lips as he remembers fondly his days home in Winterfell. Their small group enters the open door of the blacksmith’s, the heat from the blistering fire in the center of the building striking them immediately.  An older, squat man looks up from his craft, pausing his hammering to study his customers, eyes lighting up with recognition as they land on Yonn.

“What can I do for ya’s,” the blacksmith demands in a dull tone, looking away to plunge the illuminated iron into a cold bath, steam billowing with the act.

“Me mate’s lookin’ for a sword,” Yonn answers, beaming proudly and gesturing to the many racks of weaponry and armor decorating the walls and free space of the stone hut.  “Told him this is the right place.”

The blacksmith scans over the group once more, eyes settling on Sanji’s thin form with understanding. He nods to the man. “Looks like you could use one.”

Sanji opens his cloak with a deep frown, motioning to his shortsword. He politely ignores the jab, not wanting to cause a fuss, while still taking the sting out on Zoro beside him with a point of his thumb. “It’s for Ser Swordsalot over here.”

“Fuck off,” Zoro snaps at Sanji before turning his attention to the blacksmith, sizing him up.  He’s been eyeing the arms hanging from the walls since they’ve entered his shop. Even at this distance, he can tell it’s fine work.

“Ain’t that fancy greatsword enough for ya, lad?” the blacksmith asks, spitting onto the dirt as he walks closer to get a better look. “Valyrian steel, aye? Don’t think I can match that.”

“Not looking for a match,” Zoro comments idly as he moves to a rack of longswords he spots nearby.  “Just a sword.”

“Long, short, bastard, dirk, dagger,” the old man rattles off, sizing Zoro up. “Out with it, what do ya need?”

“Long.”  Zoro’s gaze trails the hilts and blades of several wares, none of them speaking to him in any particular way.  He supposes he’ll have to just ask for the cheaper options and start there until his eye catches a familiar sheath, the black hilt decorated in a telling mark.  He picks it up, turning it over in his hands with close examination. “Yrro?”

Sanji turns his full attention to Zoro at the odd formulation of letters coming from him. He studies the man staring at it with reverence, holding it in a delicate grip. It’s a strange and intriguing sight, truth be told.

The blacksmith watches Zoro handle the sword, crossing his arms. “Aye,” he confirms, eyes narrowing. “Kosh’s work. Impressive ya know it. From Winterfell, are ya?”

“No,” Zoro casually replies, gently running his hand over the sheath.  “A village nearby. Seen his wares before.” He looks up, making eye contact with the blacksmith as Yonn hovers his shoulder, studying the sword with approval.  “Damn good. For sale?”

“Aye,” the blacksmith says, nodding his head. “Was traded to me not long back, bit scuffed. I fixed ‘er up, good as new.”

Zoro pulls out the pouch of silver from his pocket and tosses it into the hand of the blacksmith.   He knows what the craftsmanship is worth and is more than willing to pay it. “Should be enough for it there.”

The old man’s eyes widen as he checks the pouch for its contents. “I’m an honest man,” he comments, clutching the sack of coin. “Take the sword and pick out any dagger ya want.”

Finding a collection of daggers on a nearby wall, Zoro looks them over and spies an ornate, red handle.  He tugs it out of its leather sheath, thumb lightly ghosting the sharp blade. With a resolute nod, he holds it up for the blacksmith to see.  “This’ll do.”

The blacksmith lets out a deep, rumbling laugh at Zoro’s choice. “Interesting taste ya got, lad. Picked out two blades in my shop that ain’t my work.” He walks up to Zoro, pointing to the dagger in his hand and remarking ominously, “Careful with it. Said to be cursed. Glad to be rid of it if I’m being honest with ya.”

Zoro flips the unsheathed blade in the air and catches it by the handle, giving the shop owner a smirk.  “Cursed. We’ll see.”

They bid the blacksmith a good day and are back on the street in seconds. Sanji rolls his eyes as Yonn praises Zoro’s choices, growing tired of the man’s fawning. He’s really beginning to wonder if the girls at the tavern are all Yonn and his other half desire at this point.

Finally, Sanji breaks up the superfluous flattery with a quip, needing to keep his companion’s ego in check. “A cursed dagger. Of course you chose a cursed dagger. You may have doomed us yet.”

Before Zoro can form a response, a large man quickly exits a nearby building and brusquely walks by them, shoulder barely missing him and ramming into Sanji.  Immediately his hand is on the hilt of the new sword at his side, snarling at the man who’s now stopped and glaring at his companion. “Piss off, bastard.”

Sanji recovers quickly from the harsh impact, meeting his offender’s glare with an icy glower to accompany Zoro’s threat as he readjusts the hood over his hair. He clutches his sword defensively, ready to lash out if it comes to that, but not overly invested in clashing steel with a stranger over something so petty.

The grimy man stares between the three of them, looking smug and ready to pick a useless fight. He nods to Sanji with a scowl, hand on the hilt of his sword menacingly. “Got in my way,” he accuses in a low scratchy tone. “Don’t like it when dumb cunts get in my way.”

Zoro takes a step towards the man, hand still gripping his hilt threateningly, intense stare locked on the smarmy bastard.  “Fuck off,” he growls in a low voice, partially unsheathing his sword, catching the sunlight on the blade, “or I’ll pull your guts out through your throat.”

“Don’t think we’ll need to resort to all that, lads,” Yonn says with a nervous laugh, grabbing Zoro by the elbow.  “Don’t want to waste our evening on a fight. Let’s carry on.” He turns to the stranger, offering a warm grin. “Free pint of beer for ya at the tavern, mate?”

The man spits at Yonn’s feet, grumbling as he gives them one last glare before he turns away, leaving the three of them in peace. Zoro’s glower doesn’t leave his face until the man disappears behind another building. Sanji is the first to turn on his feet, motioning for the other two to follow.

“Come on.”

Back at the tavern, Zoro and Sanji fill the same seats at the bar as they did the previous night with Nojyko having already filled two mugs of ale for them.  Zoro greedily swallows his down, sighing contentedly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Been a good day with a new sword on his right hip, new dagger to his left, and Harmony sitting proudly in her position on his back.  Feels complete again.

“Find what you were lookin’ for in that book?” Nojyko asks Sanji coolly, leaning against the bar.

“I didn’t, unfortunately,” Sanji responds respectfully. “But I thank you again for allowing me to borrow it.”

“Ain’t no one else ‘round here making use of it,” Nojyko comments, looking around to the dimwitted drunks filling her tavern. “And you,” she says, pointing to Zoro with a brow raised. “Look like you just got back from getting your dick sucked. That enough steel for ya?”

Zoro gifts her with a wide grin.  “Steel and ale’s all I need.”

Crossing her arms, the innkeeper lets loose a loud cackle. “True northerner, you are.” She taps the thick wood of the bar boisterously, taking in a large gulp of ale and slamming her mug down with a sigh. Then she looks to Sanji. “You on the other hand. You’re from the south, not the north like he said,” she evaluates, pointing to Zoro. “Talk that way. Southern. Don’t look like ya got a drop of First Men blood in ya.”

Sanji studies the intent behind her eyes carefully before responding gracefully, “I was raised by a southern man in the north. I grew fond of speaking like him,” he says with a placid smile, before turning it into a playful grin as he puts on an impeccable northern accent. “But I can talk like a northman if ya’d rather.”

Nojyko smiles widely, greatly amused. “Southern suits me fine, pretty lad,” she says gruffly. “Southerners, northmen. It don’t matter ‘ere.” She raises her mug, motioning for Zoro and Sanji to follow. “Drink to that.”

Sanji smiles as he takes a swig, happy that his accent hasn’t made any trouble for them. When he heard of this town’s reputation from Zoro, he knew it would be fine to speak in his natural speech pattern, if not more than fine now that he knows the town supports the Crown. But he won’t lie, Nojyko’s prodding did give him a bit of a scare just now. A loud smash in front of him shakes him from his thoughts literally as the innkeeper slams her mug down harshly and twists on her heel.

“Well, I’ll tell those useless sods back there to ready yer suppers. Chicken tonight.”

“Chicken,” Zoro repeats as Nojyko yells back to the kitchen over her shoulder.  He twists to Sanji, raising his brows with a playful gleam in his eye. “Been too long.”

Sanji turns to Nojyko whose attention is now back to them. He points to his companion, expressing humourously, “Don’t think I’ve seen his eyes twinkle quite like that before. Over chicken of all things. Thought he was dead in there, actually.”

With a snort, Zoro kicks at Sanji’s seat hard enough to make the man lose his balance.  “Dumb bastard.”

Stabilising himself on the bar, Sanji growls and lashes back immediately, nearly spilling his ale as he shoves Zoro in the arm. The screech of wood scuffling against the floorboards echo in the tavern, causing some of the patrons and barmaids to turn their heads up.

“Aye!” Nojyko commands fiercely, snapping her fingers at the two of them.  “Don’t allow brawling in my place, no matter how much I like ya!”

Sanji disentangles himself from Zoro instantly after her boisterous voice reverberates through him. He sits properly in his seat and glances to her, shamefaced. “My apologies.”

Zoro delivers one last kick to Sanji’s shin for good measure before he guzzles back his ale, emptying his mug and gesturing for more.  As she fills his cup, he takes the opportunity to look around the tavern, taking notice of many men he hadn’t seen the previous night. “Lot of business?” he asks as she sets down his drink.  “New faces.”

“New faces all the time ‘round these parts. War takes its toll on the lot of us but makes for good business for me,” she explains with a shrug. “Whores distract ‘em well. Comfort ‘em.”

Sanji takes a small gulp of ale, panning his eyes across the room at the sad state of most of these men and their flushed faces while the barmaids crawl all over them. Thinking back to last night in bed and resting his gaze on Zoro, he supposes it’s more understandable that he originally thought.

“Noticed your girls are keeping distance,” Zoro comments idly, taking another drink of ale as he nods at Nojyko with gratitude.  “Know that’s your doing.”

Nojyko acknowledges the statement with a smirk. “Aye. My company’s more interesting for ya’s anyway.” She scrutinises them both as a large man appears from the kitchen with two full steaming meals on wooden plates. He drops them down in front of her guests, nodding to them, then her before heading back inside.

Setting down his mug, Zoro picks up the hot chicken immediately and bites off a greedy chunk.  “Bloody good,” he speaks through a mouthful, exuberantly devouring more.

Giving Zoro an entertained look, Sanji teases before picking up his own portion, “You trying to choke yourself?”

“A valiant death.”

Sanji’s brows raise and he deadpans while leaning in to take a bite of his supper. “Yes. Choking on a chicken thigh. A valiant death for Ser Swordsalot.”

Hours of drinking and laughing go by in the tavern and by the time the barmaids are lighting up lanterns and candles, Zoro and Sanji decide to head up to their room. This time of night ale gets tossed around like water and things get a little too rowdy for their liking. If their circumstances weren’t so dire it would be another matter entirely. They make it up the stairs to their room and once Sanji closes the door, Zoro nearly knocks the wind from him slamming him against it.

“What are you doing?” he demands harshly, expression softening as soon as Zoro leans into his face, carnal desire swirling in his dark eyes.

Zoro answers by pressing his lips against Sanji’s, stealing his mouth in a passionate kiss. His hands search and grope the slender body enthusiastically, grinding their hips together.  He breaks away, gazing once again in the deep blue eyes and teasing with a smirk, “Don’t want it?”

Sanji doesn’t waste a moment diving in for a lust filled kiss, body yearning with desire. Breathing deeply, he twists his head and drags Zoro’s bottom lip with his teeth before letting go and giving his companion a half-lidded look. “What do you think?” he whispers with a beckoning smile.

With a wide grin, Zoro unhooks the belt securing his new sword and dagger around his waist and sets them down to the ground.  Intense stare locked on the man before him, he swiftly shrugs Harmony off his back and lays her next to the other two. He raises a curious brow, gesturing to the mattress in the corner as he probes, “What do you want?”

Sanji glances to Zoro at the query, setting down his cloak and belt. “What do you mean what do I want?” he asks, striding over to the bed. He sits down on it, slipping off his boots, shirt and pants before setting his eyes on Zoro curiously once more. He’s not sure he understands what Zoro is asking him. The man should know at this point what he wants. He tries to clarify, “I want what we did last night. Don’t you?”

Zoro nods distantly, realising Sanji isn’t fully understanding his request.  He stands on one foot to pull off his boot and then switches legs to tug off the other, pondering the best way to make himself clear.  Shrugging off his cloak and shirt, he takes a seat on the mattress next to Sanji and faces him fully. Puzzled expression set on his features, he reaches forward and uses his thumb to stroke away the blond strands and reveal Sanji’s eyebrow tattoo.  He studies the swirling pattern for a beat before lowering his eyes to the inquisitive stare and questions bluntly, “Want to fuck?”

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s not sure how to take in the question, understanding with full clarity now what Zoro wants. It’s something he’s been curious about, desired even, but it seems an unnatural thing -- not to mention painful. He wonders if Zoro’s activities with men had ever involved that in the past, so he questions, “Have you done that sort of thing with men before?”

Gaze lifting back to the white marking, Zoro simply shrugs with a nonchalant tilt of his head.  “Yeah,” he responds truthfully as he lowers his hand, letting the bang of hair fall back into place.  Before going to the wall, he experienced as much as he could. He gives Sanji a devious grin. “Surprise you?”

Sanji’s tentative expression molds into one of shock as he mumbles, “Figured you to be more stubborn than that.” He taps his hands on his thighs, looking to the wall. “It didn’t hurt?”

“Stubborn?” Zoro repeats, completely bewildered as he leans away and raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Told you I fuck men.” He pauses briefly, fully grasping Sanji’s question. Shaking his head vigorously, he raises a halting hand.  “No, not like that,” he clarifies, expression shifting to an amused smirk. “Never got any complaints.”

Turning to face Zoro’s smug smile with an incredulous look, Sanji can’t help releasing a chuckle at their little misunderstanding. “Really?” he asks in a taunting tone. “Not one? That’s rather convenient, don’t you think?”

“Could find out yourself,” Zoro responds with a lingering look, eyes taking in the sight of Sanji’s naked chest and shoulders with a growing need.  As much as his body wants the man, something deeper yearns for him even more.

It’s a tempting offer, but Sanji doesn’t feel quite ready for such explorations. Curling his hand around Zoro’s neck and tilting into his lips, he hums seductively and murmurs, “What you did last night will do just fine.”

Accepting Sanji’s proposal, Zoro nods with understanding.  Closing the space between their lips, he obliges with another passionate kiss, leaning over Sanji until his back hits the sheets, hands already moving to destinations they’ve craved all day.

 

* * *

 

“Wish you could stay, broth’a!”

Zoro awkwardly pats the backs of the men clinging to him, having spotted actual tears welling up in their eyes as he and Sanji bid their farewell.  The morning sun quickly came and after one last meal from Nojyko, they now stand outside the inn ready to journey on. Jonny and Yonn have been asking all morning if there’s any way they can stay, the four of them having connected well over the last couple days.  Zoro shakes his head with a smirk. They aren’t half bad.

“You can keep this one, pretty lad,” Nojyko says, handing Sanji an informational book on Essos. “My little sister spent all her time reading it. There’s a map inside too, so ya’s don’t get lost.”

“Thank you. We won’t forget your hospitality,” Sanji responds, taking the book and cracking it open to peek inside. “You’ve been so gracious.”

Nojyko just nods with a grunt, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yonjon! Get these lads a good strong horse.”

Finally breaking away from their hugging and blubbering, Jonny and Yonn wipe their eyes and bound off behind the building to fulfill Nojyko’s request.  Zoro shoots a glare at Sanji’s amused expression before acknowledging the innkeeper with a grin. “Been good to us.”

“Aye, as I said, don’t like to be in anyone’s debt,” Nojyko repeats from days earlier. Stepping up to Zoro, she hands him a vial of yellow liquid with a grin. “I trust you know what to do with this.”

Zoro peers at the small bottle in his hand, a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he curls his fingers around it.  Olive oil. “That I do,” he confirms, tucking it into a pouch on his belt. “You knew.”

“Aye. The both of ya.”

Sanji catches the end of their exchange in intrigue, having been too preoccupied with skimming through his new book to pay attention. “How much for the horse?” he asks, taking out his coin pouch.

“Put that away,” Nojyko demands, waving a hand at him. “Got another request for ya’s.”

Narrowing his eyes, Zoro squares his shoulders and places his hands on his hips.  Knew it was too good of the woman to suddenly offer them a horse when she’s been more than accommodating their whole stay in Dreadfell.  Giving her an expectant look, he waits in silence.

“Of course. Anything,” Sanji replies eagerly.

“My little sister. Worried about her,” she begins, stern eyes swimming with a rare display of concern. “Got a letter from her a while back. Didn’t sound herself. Wrote back to her, haven’t got nothing in about a year. Know something’s wrong, can feel it in me gut. Find her for me, put her on a ship and get her home. I would forever be in your debt.”

“No.”

“I promise we will.”

Zoro’s head spins to glare at Sanji, eyes meeting a blue intensity already turned on him.  “No fucking way,” he snarls sharply, looming over his companion. “Too dangerous as is.” He twists back to Nojyko, crossing his arms with defiance.  “Can’t expect that of us.”

“Know it’s a lot to ask, but the two of you are good, kind people. Got honour. Got strength,” Nojyko says, not backing down from Zoro’s biting glare. “Don’t come by men like you often. Can ya blame me for trying? I’ll give ya money, whatever else I got, I’d rip out me own heart and hand it over it that’s what it took. Just bring her home safe.”

Nojyko’s desperation is admirable but her request is too grand.  Their journey to Essos is treacherous enough without the burden of finding and saving some woman when they get there.   He can’t swear any oath to this when they themselves may not even make it to their destination. Zoro’s cold stare remains fixed on her pleading expression as she searches his eyes for any hint of surrender.  “For my honour’s sake,” he starts, fingers tapping against his bicep gently, “I can’t promise this. Keep your horse.” He turns to face the sun in the east, face blank. “Won’t be able to bring her back."

Just as Nojyko’s eyes turn down in defeat, Sanji steps in, sending Zoro a sharp icy glare. He takes the innkeeper’s hand in his own, his expression sensitive and compassionate as she stares into his eyes. “I don’t need your money. You’ve been more than kind enough already. I promise, I will find your sister and bring her home for you. Nami, right? I won’t forget her name. Where did you last hear from her?”

Nojyko’s eyes brighten immediately with utter relief and gratitude. She tightens her grip on Sanji’s hand, unable to hide the emotion on her face. “Lys. Last heard from her in Lys. I can’t thank you enough. I’m so worried.”

Sanji gives her hand one final comforting squeeze before releasing her. “I sympathise completely. It would be my honour.”

The hairs on the back of Zoro’s neck stand as he listens to the conversation behind him, a quiet, seething rage bubbling up from his gut.  He spots Jonny and Yonn leading a chocolate horse from behind the inn, quelling the smoldering anger in his chest for the time being. They hurry back to their sides, oblivious to the tense exchange that just occurred.

“Got her saddled up!” Yonn announces proudly, handing the reins of the horse to Sanji.

Sanji clutches the reins, saying his thanks to the duo for all their help. His eyes settle on Zoro, who is looking at him with a mixture of concern and displeasure. Shrugging off the cold glare, he places the book in his satchel and plants his foot into the stirrup. After propelling himself onto the saddle, he strokes the neck of the horse, letting her become acquainted with him. Staring down at Zoro, the man doesn’t meet his eyes as he swings himself onto the back of the saddle, resting behind him.

“Safe travels, lads,” Nojyko says with a gentle smile. “All my blessings.”

“Broth’as! We’ll never forget ya!”

Zoro gives the two of them a final wave, his eyes connecting with Nojyko’s stare one last time.  She gives him a peculiarly warm expression, crossing her arms with an eyebrow raised, a knowing look deep in her gaze.  With a curt nod, he turns his head forward as Sanji beckons the horse to take off towards the morning light.

They’re silent as they ride for several minutes, Sanji mulling on the cold exchange he’d just witnessed from Zoro. It sat with him wrong at the time and still does now, how cruel and insensitive he’d been to someone in need. Finally, he interrupts their quiet to address it. “Thought you had more honour than that. That was cold.”

“My honour is why I declined.”

“She was desperate. Don’t you sympathise at all?”

Zoro sighs with agitation, keeping his stare fixed before them, past Sanji’s shoulder.  “Was wrong of her to ask,” he scolds with a deadly calm. “Don’t know what dangers lurk in Essos. Can’t make a promise like that.”

“Asking for help is never wrong,” Sanji admonishes sharply, before deflating with a strong sigh. “Doesn’t matter. Do what you want in Essos. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“Suit yourself.”

They ride in silence for most of the day, not stopping until the sun begins to set.  Having a horse is a blessing, allowing them to make much better time on their course to the Fingers.  Finding a quiet area in the forest, they settle in to make camp for the night. As Sanji starts a fire, Zoro is only able to scrounge up a couple of squirrels for supper.  Once their bellies are full and their skin is warmed by the firelight, Zoro promptly rolls onto his back and stares at the dark canopy of treetops.

From his place at the fire, Sanji’s feels a pressing need in his bladder and abruptly stands, not sparing Zoro a glance as he walks towards the trees subtly lit up by the flames. He weaves through trunk after trunk until the campfire’s crackling is a distant echo behind him and he’s unbuttoning at the base of a large tree. As he relieves himself he thinks on their day. It’d been quiet and the tension between them palpable. He knows the man is not heartless, but Zoro’s reaction to Nojyko in such a vulnerable moment had truly shocked him. He won’t continue to hold it against him of course, but he can’t help feeling inwardly sour over it. But all the more it reinforces the unpleasant reality that they are certainly going their separate ways in Essos. There’s no way Sanji won’t keep the promise he made even if it kills him.

Finished his business, Sanji puts himself back in order. He hears the crack of a branch snapping behind him, causing his heart to jump and a gasp to escape him. Before he can turn around, rough material is plunged between his lips, tugging him into two unfamiliar forms and stifling his surprised cry. His arms are instantly grabbed, legs kicked out from under him, sword unsheathed and taken from him. He hits the ground fast and hard, swallowing his shout. He writhes in the dirt, grunting as his chest grooves terribly onto the hard earth from a knee pressing into his spine. Just as he begins to yell through the cloth, his mouth is further ensnared by the threatening clutch of someone’s hand, head yanked back by a fearsome grip painfully ensnaring his hair. Neck exposed, the cool sharpness of a knife presses at his throat and he stills his struggling completely.

Teetering close to sleep, arms crossed over his chest, Zoro’s eyebrow twitches suddenly and his hand immediately finds the handle of the dagger still strapped to his side.  Eyes flying open, he’s met by three looming figures standing over him, one with a blade already pointed at his chest. Heart pounding, blood coursing through his veins, he wastes no time grabbing the sword drawn on him with his hand and shoving it away, completely ignoring the edges slicing into his palm.  His dagger is swiftly unsheathed and plunged into the stomach of the offender as he hops to his feet, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a short sword at his left side. Blood dripping down his fingers, he rapidly tugs his longsword out of its scabbard and draws it on the remaining men, looking between their faces glowing in the firelight as the third drops to his knees.

The clang of steel hitting steel echoes in the moonlight as the man with the drawn short sword clashes against him, his friend circling Zoro’s other side.  He keeps his attention on both and unleashes a loud grunt, swinging down his sword and cutting into the side of the man’s neck. The remaining intruder lunges at him, an earlier hidden dagger appearing and Zoro spins to avoid it’s sharp point, twisting to face the man head on.

“Got that Targaryen cunt,” the intruder taunts as the light from the flames dance across his sickening grin.  “He’ll make us a lot of gold.”

“Gold?” Zoro questions, moving with the shadows to find the perfect angle to swing.

“Rebel bannermen love to buy Targaryen cunts,” the man explains with a jeering laugh. “Question ‘em and torture ‘em bloody good.”

Zoro’s scowl deepens as he lifts his sword and cuts through the air to strike the man, only to be met with the grating sound of the dagger’s edge against his blade.  The man’s strength is considerable, able to wield a much smaller weapon against his long sword but Zoro’s swiftness gives him a distinct advantage. His enemy’s focus set on his long sword closing in, he shifts his grip on his own cursed blade and lurches forward, sinking the dagger deep into the man’s chest.  The intruder’s mouth gapes wide as his throat gurgles, blood droplets appearing at the corners of his lips. Dropping his own dagger, his hands reach to grip Zoro’s tight hold on the handle, eyes pleading for mercy. Zoro shakes his head and gives his blade a fierce twist, intense glare bearing down on the man until he drops to his knees dead.  Without a moment’s wait, he takes off into the forest through the same thicket Sanji disappeared in, heart in his throat as he hopes he’s not too late.

“Struggle and I’ll cut open your throat,” Sanji’s captor threatens, poking the sharp blade further into his neck, drawing blood.

Grimacing from the cut, Sanji inhales sharply as he’s tugged by the roots of his hair onto his feet. They’d managed to tie his hands behind his back when they grounded him. He’s still got his legs, but at knifepoint, he’s not sure what kind of maneuver he could make quickly enough before his throat gets sliced open. The man behind him is big, powerful, he can feel his form flush against his back.

“Walk,” the low voice menaces in his ear.

The bastard behind Sanji knees him in the side and he buckles over slightly, biting back any sound. He doesn’t want to give the man the pleasure. Sanji’s automatic response is to put one foot over the other, wanting to cooperate as his mind races for a way out and to grasp more details about his situation. He can hear a second pair of footsteps following behind him, reminding him that chances of escape are slimmer.

They walk on and it’s not long after that Sanji hears clanking in the distance.He jerks his head slightly to the noise. Zoro. His heart jumps in his throat. His captors must notice his realisation because they’re quick to taunt him.

“Your friend’s a dead man,” the one from behind says sickly, laughing. “We sent three of our best on ‘im. But you, you’ll fetch us a good price with the rebels.”

At this, Sanji stops walking and begins struggling once more, knife at his neck be damned. If they’re aiming to sell him off to rebel bannermen, then the threat on his life is null and void. He kicks wildly behind him but the hulking man overpowers him once more with the help of his comrade, holding Sanji still in a robust grip. The knife switches to drag an inch down his cheek, causing Sanji to clench his teeth around the gag and close his eyes through the searing pain.

He has to get back to Zoro. He has to do  _something._

“Got looks like them Targaryens,” the man gripping him sneers in his ear with a deep chuckle. “If you don’t stop putting up a fuss, we’ll have to put your dragon blood to the test. See if we can’t get your skin to blister and charr.”

Spotting three figures ahead, Zoro readies his blade, prepared to attack the moment his presence is known.  His instincts urging him forward desperately, he doesn’t waste any time trying to sneak up on the scene, rather diving in with brute force.  The man closest to him catches the sound of his boots in the dirt and he turns his head in acknowledgment. Surging forward, Zoro is close enough to strike and slices deep into the man’s shoulder, taking advantage of his slow draw.

“Fucking hell!” the man shouts, gripping his shoulder as he staggers to a knee, glaring up at Zoro from under the pale moonlight.  His tense expression quickly fades away as he slumps over lifelessly. His friend’s attention is caught by the skirmish and he spins around quickly, Sanji still in his grip.  Zoro’s heart drops as he spies the dagger held to his companion’s throat. The man wielding the weapon grins at him maniacally, pressing the edge to Sanji’s flesh.

Sanji’s eyes on Zoro are cool and collected, his mind washing over with sweet relief that his companion is okay. And now that he’s here, longsword drawn and an animalistic gleam to his eyes, Sanji fully trusts that they will make it out of this alright. He senses Zoro’s plan based on the way he’s tightening his grip on his longsword and the slight dart of his eyes, telling him what to do. Sanji jerks his head to the side, Zoro’s strike so swift that the dagger at his neck tenses for only a moment before it drops to his feet. The vice like grip around Sanji disappears, arms falling away as the man’s dead body is held up by Zoro’s longsword plunged clean through his skull. Immediately Sanji scurries away from the body, swaying awkwardly with his arms tight behind him.

“You hurt?” Zoro asks as he tries to dislodge his sword from the penetrating depths of his enemy’s skull.  Frowning at the lack of give, he raises his foot and uses his boot heel against the man’s torso to provide himself enough leverage to withdraw his blade.  He leans down and wipes the blood on the man’s cloak before using it to cut the bindings on Sanji’s hands, freeing him to tug off his gag.

Sanji grimaces as Zoro frees him, stuck on his companion’s brutal actions with the dead body which appeared to be almost routine. He rubs his wrists briefly before untying the gag and tossing it aside. Heart still beating wildly in his chest, he puts a hand through his hair, rubbing his fingers through the back of his head to null away the ghosting feeling of that man’s grip on the follicles. Finally, he lets loose the breath he feels he’s been holding in this entire time, wetting his tongue to formulate a response. “No,” he answers distantly, fingers stroking lightly at his neck, sliding through a small trail of blood. “Just a couple scratches.”

With a frown Zoro reaches forward and grips Sanji’s chin, moving his head to study the cuts on his cheek and neck.  Grazes. Won’t take much to heal. A calm relief fills him as he feels the warmth of his companion’s skin, knowing they’re both lucky to be alive.

Sanji’s eyes soften at the comforting warm touch and the familiar intense stare set on him. He is deeply allayed that they’ve both survived the ordeal. Then he feels that Zoro’s hands are slick with something. Blood. He takes his hands into his own and studies them in the limited moonlight shining down through the canopy, finding a deep gash over one of his palms. “Your hand,” he says, deeply concerned. “I need to bandage it. Did you get any other wounds?”

Zoro shakes his head, eyes not leaving the soft look of worry etched across Sanji’s face.  His heart thumps heavily in his chest, the earlier rush of excitement fading to a sobering realisation of how easily he could have lost this man.  Slightly unnerved by the mere thought, Zoro leans forward and presses a tender kiss to Sanji’s forehead.

Sanji closes his eyes and lets the warmth from Zoro’s lips between his brows calm the remainder of his agitated nerves. When he’s released, a heavy, profound stare is on him, causing Sanji to feel somewhat overwhelmed and cut through the tense air with a joke.

“Well this is certainly a good way to break in your new sword.”

Tapping the hilt at his hip, Zoro smirks and agrees, “The work of my master has already saved our lives.”

“Your master’s?” Sanji asks curiously as he bends down to one of the bodies, retrieving his shortsword and sliding it back into its scabbard still attached to his hipside.

“Kosh Yrro.  The blacksmith from Winterfell.  Taught me everything.”

As they turn to begin walking back to camp, Sanji nods in understanding. “So that’s why you went for it in Dreadfell.”

“Recognised it instantly,” Zoro explains as he flexes his fingers, testing how deep the gash across his hand is.  “Best in the north.” He thinks back to the dead bodies at their camp. “Didn’t disappoint.”

“It’s fitting that you should have it,” Sanji comments leisurely, eyes scanning what he can see of the tree trunks with a touch of paranoia. “Think there’s more of them lurking about?”

“No,” Zoro says as he spots the soft glow of their still lit fire in the distance.  “Killed three at camp.”

Sanji hums, thinking back darkly. He’d received several nasty looks back in Dreadfell, causing him to worry that the north is on the lookout for features like his more relentlessly than previously thought. Dirtying the fairness out of his hair and pulling a hood over it may not be enough anymore. Dreadfell had been a slimy place despite how it’d served as a brief sanctuary for them. Perhaps they’d gotten too comfortable. They’ll have to be more careful from now on. He could have lost Zoro over something so stupid.

Sanji comments, “They must have followed us from Dreadfell. Said they were going to hand me over to rebel bannermen for gold. We have to be more careful.”

A pang of worry nestles deep in Zoro’s chest as he silently nods in agreement.  They’d been careful in Dreadfell to hide Sanji’s appearance and this attempt on their lives had still occurred.  As they go further south, the threat will only increase with rebellion armies marching in the same direction. He needs to pay better attention, grow stronger, and be more diligent in keeping Sanji safe.  This group of morons were bumbling idiots who couldn’t fight. Next time they may not be so lucky.

They make it to their campsite a couple strides later, Sanji taking in the bloody massacre that their private space has become. Three men, all with gruesome slashes in various spots on their bodies which led to their deaths. It looks like the battle had been swift and effortless for Zoro. He feels a bit ashamed that he couldn’t handle two men, but reminds himself that he’d been caught severely off-guard.

After they finish moving the bodies out of sight into the surrounding woods, Sanji gets to work on Zoro’s hand wound immediately. When the man’s palm is cleaned and bandaged, he doesn’t let go of it, stroking the back of his hand through the material gently. His mind is drifting as he stares at the bandages wrapped around Zoro’s hand, his pensive frown deepening as he worries over how quickly and needlessly he could have lost him. Nevermind their inevitable separation in Essos. He just wants to get through another day with Zoro.

The light from the fire illuminates the troubled expression on Sanji’s face.  He can only assume his companion must be reflecting on what just unfolded at the campsite as he also can’t keep those thoughts from churning in his head.  Wrapping his fingers around Sanji’s hand in a tight grip, Zoro leans in and brushes their lips together, a burning desire within him seeking out comfort in this way.  Their ardent movements are a grounding reminder they’re still alive, still able to enjoy one another. At least for another night.

Grooving his lips against Zoro’s with a deep hum, Sanji kisses him back desperately, placing his palm to the back of his neck and holding him close. He lets the comforting rhythm of their deep kisses soothe his frayed nerves, like powerful tides smoothing over a rocky shore.

 


End file.
